As the day quickly turned to dusk, me and my friend Ronnie decided to go for a quick ride on our dirtbikes considering he had bought three bright GoPro mount lights. Everything went well at the start, seeing animals on either side of us. Light was growing scarce, almost to the point where we could no longer see due to the woods shading everything in sight. We did multiple laps around our usual loop and even did some of our favorite hill climbs. We grew bored after five or six laps, so we decided to ride down to the sandpits by the Blackstone River. Cops usually hang out down there so we double and triple checked to make sure there weren’t any in there. We saw a truck which spooked us, even though we were fairly certain it wasn’t one.
Regardless of it being a cop or not, we fled back into the woods, spewing up dirt in the background. Dew started to form on the ground, and as it was cold, it may have even created a thin layer of ice on the ground. The temperature dropped even lower, and at this point every limb on our bodies were numb. We keep riding, or at least I thought we were. There was no engine behind me. I shut off my bike yelling out because I had no idea were my friend was.
"Ronnie! Where are you!", I yelled.
I spun my bike around and set off back into the darkness only to find my friend on the ground. His dirt bike was on the ground as well, so I figured he had slid out on some wet leaves, which was the case. I parked my bike, leaning it up against a tree to go help my friend.
"I broke my clutch lever, Trent.", Ronnie said.
Naturally I said some suggestive words. We knew if we could put his bike into neutral, he could coast down a nearby hill, downshift without his clutch, and get his bike home. Well, that wasn’t the case. His shifter was being wonky, and just wouldn’t budge, which was a huge problem since he was in his second or third gear. Just when it couldn’t get any worse, our lights were about to die. My Dad knows far more about motorcycles than the two of us combined, and he would be the one to call, but he was sick and we didn’t want to bother him.
About half an hour passed, and we were out of ideas in what we could do, so I ended calling my dad and just explaining the situation. He offered to come down and help out, so we thanked him and he hurried out of the house.
He arrived fifteen minutes later, and the time was a little after 7:30. He put the bike into neutral, with godly powers, and started it. I sprinted over to my bike, tripping over everything in sight with my big, bulky boots, and chased after the bike that was now rolling down the hill in gear. I took the lead since I had the only light which still had some battery, and took multiple wrong turns and hotlines until we finally arrived at my house.
We took a few minutes to just laugh at the entire scene, making fun of my own faults and Ronnie just falling and breaking his clutch lever. What seemed like back-breaking labor to push the bike home turned into the funniest thing we have ever experienced.
The next day Ronnie took a lever of his mini bike, took off the broken lever, and replaced it with that one. Later that day we went riding again and everything went well.
A week later after the incident, when my dad was all better, we all went riding together for a few hours and went home. We were all careful around the spot, and lucky for us there were no mishaps. A few minutes later however, we pulled into the back of my house. Again I heard no motor and went back down the trail. Automatically I started laughing at the sight when I saw Ronnie’s bike leaning against a rock with a broken clutch lever. This time, however, everything was funny.