The R1 meets Bambi by Jack B

So, with blue skies and sixty-odd degrees, my brother and I went out to shoot some of our favorite corners. My brother was on his bird and me on my R1. The road conditions were good, still a little sand, but not bad.

We came upon the intersection of my favorite road, a road I've avoided so far this season, due to the generous amount of sand in the curves. My brother said he had been on it earlier in the day and that it wasn't too bad. That's all I needed to hear--we hit it. Wow, the first good leans of the season, all I could think is, "wow, I love this road."

We hit the majority of the corners and came upon a straight. Two corners left to go, a left and a right. I took the left and flicked the bike over for the blind right. I was in a good lean, the road was clear of sand, and all was perfect with the world. But that's when I saw them--four deer, all heads up, just sitting there watching me come towards them.

At first it didn't register, I'm like, "what the hell is that," then "oh shit!" Four little bambis, sitting in a row, there's no chance of telling, which way they'll go. In the time it took for my recognition sensors to awaken, the deer had already completed their eeny, meeny, miny, moe verse, and three bogeys went off into the woods, and bogey #1 decided to come in for a closer look. For some reason, this deer decided that the safest thing to do would be to cross the road right in front of a screaming R1 complete with rider in full-lean.

It was strange when we left the house. I noticed my brother opted for the protective insulated First Gear pants, which we both have, but I decided not to for this ride. I opted for jeans since the weather was so nice. It's weird when you make a decision like that, I made it, and something clicked that I might be sorry later.

So here I am, shooting the right-hander, and It's down to me and one deer. I rolled off, two fingered the lever, and scrubbed off some speed. I began to calculate the hypotenuse (a^2 + b^2 = c^2), the bogey's trajectory, velocity, and whether I could two-bank the eight ball, the whole time hoping the deer would stick to the ground and not perform some aerobatic 4-point roll into the side of the R1. It stayed down, I managed to scrub off enough speed, and the deer passed right-before my hi-beams.

Of course my brother had the best seat in the house running in second, as he squawked over the chatterbox something about cleaning bambi hair out of my air filter. It was a chance encounter, one we both prefer not to have again.