Death wish.

The youngest person to ever be killed at Indianapolis took the bite yesterday – 13 year-old Peter Lenz, one of America’s rising motorcycle racing stars, was struck and killed by a fellow racer during warm up laps before the Sunday races. According to eye witnesses, Lenz fell off his own bike and managed to stand up on the track before being hit by a following racer who could not see him and did not have the dexterity to avoid him.

This was the first news story I read this morning, less than a week after I bought my first motorcycle.

There were two pictures that dominated the associated press with regards to the crash this morning. One where Lenz is on a stretcher and the paramedics are trying in vain to revive him. The other picture, much more sinister, is a picture of Lenz’ body on the ground. The most shocking thing about this picture (and probably the reason it mysteriously disappeared from much of the Internet shortly after I saw it) is the thick runner of blood crossing the asphalt from Lenz’ tiny broken body. It is the most jarring image in the entire photograph.

So why am I showing it here? Believe me, it is not out of disrespect for the rider. It's to make a point. This is real. Death is a legitimate risk involved with riding motorcycles - no getting around it. This is what happens when you are dealing with closing forces over 120 miles an hour, regardless of how skilled you are or how much gear you wear. This is what it means to cheat death and lose.

No doubt that Lenz understood the risks of his sport – he sure as heck understood them a lot better than the squids who go racing around in public streets in tank tops and flip flops. Someone cruel and insensitive might even insinuate that to pursue such an affinity with motorcycles is a death wish, and that Peter Lenz’ end was simply a self-fulfilling prophecy. As one person on scene observed, it’s an ugly, terrible side of the sport. And the sheer youth of the person involved makes it an even bigger blip on the American landscape, a more notable tragedy than the thousands of regular, everyday motorcyclists who are killed in the United States every year.

We are a nation obsessed with the sleek and the fast, and when our love comes back to bite us, we are always surprised.

Still, his death is a grim reminder to me of the risks involved with the sport I’ve chosen to undertake, even though I won’t necessarily be tooling around at 120 miles an hour anytime soon, and I don’t have the burning desire to do so, either. When 20 mph still feels fast to you on a motorcycle, 120 mph is unfathomable. As dangerous as motorcycle track racing is, there are racers who refuse to ride their bikes in traffic, which is the path I've chosen. The fact that guys who have no problem racing on a closed track are hesitant to ride in traffic is a telling testimony to just how dangerous cars, trucks, vans, and SUVs can be to motorcyclists.

The unspoken response to my remark about the news at the office was raised eyebrows and a you want to ride one of those? look. If you ride motorcycles, or engage in any other activity that is more strenuous than mowing your lawn, you are likely to receive The Look from someone about something. It is The Look that says you are mad for doing something, because don’t you know you’re going to die?

To these people, I always want to respond, “Don’t you know you’re going to die anyway, whether you risk your life or not?”

As part of my preparation for learning to ride, I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the results of motorcycle wrecks, not because I’m morbid or enjoy looking at the gory remnants of people who were dumb, drunk, or just unlucky, but because I’m not an idiot. I am not one of these people who sees a picture of a motorcyclist ripped in half by a street light and thinks, “There’s no way that could happen to me.” On the contrary, it makes me think of all the things I need to be thinking about in the saddle to avoid these things happening to me. You can’t control all things, but you can control a LOT of things. You might not be able to keep someone from trying to run you off the road because they “didn’t see you”, but you can make yourself prepared to make yourself scarce when the situation rears its ugly head. And if you don’t want to end up under the tires, you’ll make an effort.

This kid had nine national championships and he still got bit. Just something to think about the next time you think you’re good enough to get away with skipping some gear or hitting that twist beyond your abilities.

Lenz died doing what he loved, and he achieved more in the sport of motorcycle racing in a few short years than most people achieve over the course of their entire careers. And that’s saying a lot. There are worst ways to go out. Everyone dies, but not everyone truly lives.

Rest in peace. You did good, kid.