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The night I nearly killed two daredevils…

The night I nearly killed two daredevils…

I had been drinking heavily and had had an absolute gut-ful… Seriously, this guy was going on and on about all the crazy things he had done on a motorbike and in a car. 

“That’s it – time to go!” I shouted as I picked up my helmet and threw a helmet towards this guy, who I will call Grant. I did it in a way so he couldn’t back out – everyone at the ‘party’ heard. He followed me to my bike and climbed on as I started it. 

Before I even put it in gear he was pushing me forward on the seat leaning right over my shoulders and shouting “no monos Adam, no monos!” 

What? This ‘daredevil’ wanted me to stay on two wheels after talking it up for what seemed like hours?? I wasn’t one to do many wheelies anyway – I ignored him and gave it full throttle. 

Being so drunk, I really don’t recall the first few minutes but I would have been riding fairly hard – that was normal. My memory kicks in when I saw the lights up at the main road go orange. I had slowed to around 100 as I tried to keep a low profile near main roads due to problems with the police. 

But there was NO WAY was I going to wait at a red light, so I clicked down a couple of gears and held it flat. It was only milliseconds before I crossed the lights that I suddenly realised WHICH set of lights this was… 

“I’M DEAD” 

This set of lights had a hump that was crazy – many cars had lost a gearbox or broken a front end on this one. It was a scary hump at 70, and we must have been going at least 150  / 180- maybe up to 200… 

Time slowed down as it hit home that I was about to die. I tried to make sure we were upright and just braced for what was sure to be the last time I landed on earth. I remember I was about to think about how much it was about to hurt when we took off… 

I really mean took off. I have no idea how high we went, but it felt like we would have cleared a double decker bus. I have never before or since experienced anything like it. We were so high I really was expecting not to feel anything as the impact of landing would just kill us instantly. 

But then something crazy happened. We landed. There was not crash, no broken bones, not even a jolt. It was so smooth it was as if we hadn’t even gone over a bump in the road let alone a jump. We landed about 30cm from the left curb at the exit of the other side of the lights, guessing 15 – 20m further down the road. 

Within a split second, I had gone from thinking “I am doomed” to “man I’m great” and kept thrashing it. A few minutes later we arrived at a fuel station and I got off the bike. I was probably overly happy, excited & maybe shouting when I noticed my passenger. He was trying to get off the bike, but his legs were not really working correctly. He was shaking uncontrollably and had trouble talking. 

I remember that I made a point of trying to do some monos on the way home, but don’t recall much else – I had had a lot to drink and it really wasn’t a big night. It was after all a Thursday night and I had work the next morning… 

That’s right – it was just a run of the mill night – nothing out of the ordinary for me at that stage of my life. I would have been in shorts & t-shirt & likely had no shoes on. I would regularly come home with bleeding feet from them grinding on the road – me too drunk & engrossed in speed to even notice. 

Even with my blacked out memory I can remember hundreds of times where I should have been dead. Each time I did something stupid and didn’t die it emboldened me and fed my crazy ego. It’s not like I had a death wish (unless not caring whether you die is classed as) I just loved going fast. 

My brain had to escape the thoughts I had no control of – I had to be drunk AND doing something adrenalin filled to drown out the thoughts. I spent years of my life without ever going to sleep – I drank and/or drugged to pass out. But the hours before my mind & body succumbed to the cocktail, I did many, many stupid, stupid and at times impossible things. 

I look back now and shudder – that idiot flying through the air should never have survived that flight. I know the law of gravity – I know that old ex police bike’s suspension – I know the height & speed we hit…there is NO WAY the combination could work. 

Seriously, a purpose built bike, a ramp designed for the event and a landing ramp at the exact right angle and MAYBE it would work with the right training. Maybe. But with someone on the back? Impossible. But it happened. How? Why? 

If only I had the sense to think about it back then – I MIGHT have avoided some very painful wake up calls. Like the one where I came off the bike while the police were chasing me…with an innocent  passenger on the back. But all I could see was the enemy. The police. I was like people in America who commit gun crime, resist arrest, attack the police, then cry foul when they get shot. I could not see from another perspective at all. 

I remember being taken to hospital in an ambulance with a suspected brain aneurysm: I passed out in the ambulance. I awoke in ED with tubes & sensors everywhere. My heart beat & rate was up & down like a yoyo and erratic.  A sensible person would have listened to the doctors and changed their ways. What did I do? I worked out how to turn the machine off, disconnected myself, borrowed a phone and walked out, not even waiting for the doctors bleak news.

I can tell you for 100% certain – that lifestyle will always catch up with you. The consequences suck – they really do. 20+ years later, I regret it all – big time. But now I know why I didn’t die – and surprise surprise, it had NOTHING to do with me being a great rider! In fact, I now doubt I had many skills at all.1At one point, I asked a close friend to think about a few nights on the back of my bike & tell me why we weren’t both dead. I said: “James, either I am a way better rider than Mick Doohan, or there is a God who protected us!” After a few minutes he looked at me soberly and admitted “@$$#@ there IS A GOD?!!!”  Neither was it luck or coincidence: the shear volume of near misses would rule that out in a few days. 

So what was it that kept me alive? 

His name is Jesus. 

The Creator of the universe chose me to show His grace. He protected me over & over & over & over & over again. I deserved death at every (literal) corner. I hated ‘god’ – I deliberately sinned & used & abused people. I was so incredibly conceited and proud – I just can’t describe what a waste of oxygen I was. But He loved me anyway! He sent his Son to die for me knowing all my bad choices past and future.  

I may have broken every law there was, and He may have broken the laws of the universe to protect me, but there is one law that can never be broken. Gods’ law. His law can never be cheated… 

One lie, you’re doomed. Stolen once? You’re gone. Lusted? It’s all over. Sin – it’s everywhere. It feels great and our culture encourages it. But it leads to death & hell. There is only One way out. 

His name is Jesus. 

There is only One who entered His own creation, willing dying to pay the price of those that rejected Him. Scorned and beaten and whipped and killed by the ones He came to save. 

His name is Jesus. 

There is only One who defeated death, rising to life again and showing His followers how to live 

His name is Jesus. 

The One who rules in Heaven and is coming back to establish His Kingdom. 

His name is Jesus. 

JESUS!

Jesus the King

Jesus the Lion 

Jesus the Lamb 

Jesus my friend and my God. 

 

#thankYouJesus #followJesus 

Footnotes:

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    At one point, I asked a close friend to think about a few nights on the back of my bike & tell me why we weren’t both dead. I said: “James, either I am a way better rider than Mick Doohan, or there is a God who protected us!” After a few minutes he looked at me soberly and admitted “@$$#@ there IS A GOD?!!!”

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