21 years ago, I almost get hit by a stripper who loses control of her Camaro on a canyon road. I go down, and I’m thinking, “Fuck, brand new BMW.” I stand up, and my left leg buckles sideways into my right leg at the knee: torn ACL in two, ruptured medial meniscus disc, fractured tibia at the plateau. Three surgeries and six months later, I’m back on bikes, this time a Ducati 999. Put several thousand miles on it, and then I get rear-ended; lying on the ground waiting for the ambulance. I’m praying, “Jesus, please, I haven’t recovered from the last accident.” Fast-forward to the hospital, nurse comes and tells me it’s only soft tissue damage. My hip is not broken. I didn’t ride for 20 years. Fast-forward to Nashville, Tennessee from Newport Beach, California three years ago, and I buy my first bike again. Now I’ve got about 40,000 miles under my seat, no issues, because there aren’t a lot of cars out in the countryside. Turns out dragging your knee around the corner isn’t the problem; automobiles are the problem. Well, and being 20 years younger, lol.