Our mistake kept me off the dirtbike for about four months. Well, not really. It was in the shop for a month, but then I got sick and couldn't ride for awhile. By the time I was well again and the dirtbike was running, it was cold and snowy. But now I had an instinct to ride, so I bundled up and started the engine anyway. 

I was riding wheelies, and I'd pin the throttle in the highest gear downhill. I made sure to keep my body low towards the dirtbike, my head forward, my legs squeezed against the dirtbike, and a death grip on the handlebars. If I didn't, I'd literally get lifted off the dirtbike by the wind. I've done it a couple times before, and that's a scary feeling. 

I had a few close calls. Denver's adventurous bad drivers seem to like wandering onto unfamiliar country roads, and have made a few bad choices around me. One guy failed to use his turn signal, and I almost slammed my elbow against his passenger-side rear-view mirror. Out of anger and shock, I glanced back and flipped him off. He didn't see me at all. 

Another guy swerved into my lane for no apparent reason, other than to scare and piss me off. I revved my engine and made an angry gesture with my arm. I think he said something back, but I'm not sure since I haven't seen him. 

A school bus popped out of absolutely nowhere around a bend and I had to hit the ditch to avoid running into it. Around that same bend, someone thought it would be a good idea to pass me, only to slow down immediately after cutting me off since there's another bend 200 feet away, and my tires skidded on the gravel as I turned to avoid rear-ending him. He was the only guy who was genuinely sorry for his actions, and I forgave him. 

It's not just cars that are hazards though. I've almost run into multiple dogs, deer, and a cow on those county roads. I'm always watching for animals, but they like to run across the road out of nowhere, and the dogs love to chase me. I haven't seen the two huge Great Pyrenees dogs that would run out and chase me any chance they had, since November. That was always terrifying. 

One day, I ignored the weather warnings and went out for a ride. It was perfect, but the wind was forecast to gust near 80 miles an hour, and blow at a steady 60 miles an hour. It didn't feel that windy until a massive gust roared from the south, and pushed both me and my dirtbike into the ditch. I stopped my dirtbike about 20 feet from the neighbor's mailbox, stood trembling for a bit to calm down, and then carefully rode back to the house. That same day, the trampoline almost went through our sliding glass door, and several large trees were downed.