When things aren't going so well

Rain on the M56

Riding back from Manchester in the heavy rain of the the M56 motorway, here in North West England, can be a down trodden experience. Rain beating into your visor at 70mph, you really have to grin and bear it. But I was smiling. For the past two years, I had been riding an amazing bike. The incredible BMW 800, GS Adventure. “People travel the world on these”, Stuart, the BMW salesman had said when I first saw it. Now though, I had done over 8000 miles in those two years. Commuting, Sunday ride outs with Charlotte, evening cafe trips and an unforgettable 1800 mile Normandy holiday, pre COVID of course. The 800 twin had never missed a beat, never let me down, every ride a mini adventure and a lesson in life. Now though, the time had come to move on. 

Setting my eyes on the GS1250 Adventure. I had the same feeling that I had two years ago. Bikelove at first sight. Bikes do that. The beauty in design, lines, colours, and proportions were incredible. The 1250 designers had done a wonderful job. 

The next step in buying a used bike isn’t about the bike at all. It’s about profiling the previous owner ! David from the BMW Manchester dealership had called me as soon as it came in. The bike had been part-exed, by its previous owner “He really looks after his bikes, Gareth. It was kept it in his garage every night, he only rode it occasionally and changes them every year”. Music to my ears. “It’s everything you wanted, Gareth. 1400 miles, 1 owner, immaculate. Grey and Red. It’s stunning”. 

Half an hour later I was down at the dealer and giving a ‘virtual’ COVID-compliant-elbow-touch-handshake-thingy. The bike would be ready in a week and I would be riding, what some would say is the Best Adventure Bike in the World.

And here on the rain soaked motorway M56 motorway, I was pulling off at the Warrington junction, working out what I was going to say to Charlotte. How could I explain a bike change, when I had bored her to death - pretty much every day - about how my 800 had been so perfect ? I sure had a bit of work to do when I got home.

Junction 11

Junction 11 roundabout is the intersection between the M56 and the A49. As roundabouts go, it’s normal enough, but it’s a pretty heavily used intersection. On the South side, you have two A roads at the first and second turnings as you arrive at it from Manchester and then on the other side, the A49 to Warrington, where I was heading. Nothing unusual, the rain had lightened, there was a little light traffic, and as I breathed in heavily as I got the the roundabout I could smell a note of diesel in the road, nothing much here to trouble me, I thought.

So it was steady and careful braking, check my mirrors to make sure nobody was still doing motorway speeds behind me and then into the outside lane of the roundabout itself, gently gliding around to right. Leaning over a little, the 800 stuck to the curve I took beautifully. The gentle blend of a little speed, a little G force, a little leaning over and all of the sounds and sights on that roundabout at dusk reminded me of what a great bike I was riding. 

My ride home was so far pretty uneventful but that was about to all change.

A Fleeting Glance

As I rounded the roundabout and my vision opened up, I saw it. Another bike. 

Parked at the exit from the A49, South side, in an awkward location. Not one that you would choose if you had planned to stop there. Too close to the roundabout. The biker, standing yet leaning across the bike. Using it as a support. Still. Staring straight at the roundabout. My approaching bike seemed to spark them out of their lost gaze and to look at me. Our eyes met. In a moment I knew it. They didn’t look right. 

The human brain has an incredible ability to process vast amounts of data in a fraction of a second and make neural connections to help us reach a decision in an instant. It’s in the amygdala that it’s done and has done so for thousands of years.

I had a few seconds to decide….stop and see what was going on, or head home to explain the 1250 to Charlotte. When a biker’s is down, you have to make sure they are okay. Bikers code. My explanation to Charlotte would have to wait a little longer. Perhaps not a bad thing, I said to myself, as I passed my turning to home on the A49 North and doubled back on myself.

Once more round the roundabout, I realised that actually getting to the biker was going to be trickier than I thought and so as I went back around I had to head up the A49 South from where they must have come from, so this was actually the second time they saw me. Their look was forlorn as I rode past them, but a few moment later I turned back to them. I noticed that they had now gone from leaning over and resting on their bike to now standing a little more upright, as if to try to telegraph to me that all was was okay. It was too late now not to not stop though, and I was now just a few seconds from them. Pulling up, they were now stood fully upright and away from the bike. I gently slowed and stopped and gently flicked my hazard lights on.

“Yeah…I’m Fine”

And here I was. At that moment, the slightly awkward moment when you ask a complete stranger, if they are okay.

Visor up. “You okay mate ?”. My voice loud enough to be heard above the noise of the busy roundabout, yet soft enough to show compassion.

“Yeah…….I’m fine”. 

They didn’t look fine. They looked anything but fine. In fact they looked upset, unhappy and in discomfort. This wasn’t right I thought to myself. No this definitely wasn’t right. It would have been easy to leave it there. They didn’t know me, I didn’t know them. My bikers code had been duly delivered. I could get off. Conscious clear. Easy. Plus, I needed to get back to Charlotte to let her know the new 1250 was landing next week.

I was just about to ride off and say a friendly ‘ah ok’. But that expression, ‘Yeah……I’m’ fine, triggered a memory. It took me back to a short video that I had watched, just a few weeks ago, produced by the Zero Suicide Alliance. 

The video that had taught me that it’s not the first “Yeah I’m fine” that is the one that provides true insight to a persons situation. You see the “First Yeah I’m Fine” is a bit of a mask. 

We all do it. How many times, when asked how we are , do we say…”Yeah I’m fine”, when really, truly, we are anything but fine. But we just don’t say it.

I asked a second time. This time unbuckling and slipping off my helmet, so they could see more of me than through the slot of my helmet. They could see a friendly face.

“ I know you said you are fine, but are you really okay “. A bit more emphasis on the word really.

Pause.

“Actually…….no, I’m not okay. Could you stay with me a minute”. 

“Of course”. I got off my bike.

“I’m really embarrassed, but just as I came around that bend to the roundabout, it all came up a bit fast , I panicked a bit and I felt the car behind me was too close. In a bit of a panic, I grabbed my front brake and fell off”. “When I saw you come around the roundabout I only had just picked myself up and got to the side of the road. I saw you look at me but I was trying not to let you know that I’d come off. I felt really embarrassed”.

“Oh, it’s okay. Let’s check you out then”. Getting off my bike now. “Have you hurt yourself ?” .

“I’m honestly okay, but would you mind staying with me for a few minutes please ? I don’t want to take up your time though”.

“Of course, I’ll wait for as long as you like, I’m not going anywhere”. 

And so for the next twenty minutes, we checked their bike over, made sure they hadn’t hurt themselves, got them to a safer place at the side of the road called their partner.

Striking up a friendship, I shared my story of my new bike and we even jokingly, practised my rehearsal for what I was going to say to Charlotte about my latest purchase to Charlotte.

Riding off, Steven smiled and shouted to me “Take care mate”. Watching him wave at me in my left hand mirror, as swept off around the roundabout and back home. 

All it takes

There was so much that I didn’t know about Steven. His surname, his job, his age, was he married, where he lived. But the truth was, I didn’t need any of these details. The important thing had been done. Just asking him how he was - a second time. Had got to it. The Zero Suicide Awareness training says that all you need to do is ask twice. When someone doesn’t look right, when they have a look of distress, or simply don’t look right. The thing to do is ask are they okay. But ask a second time. The first answer is often a facade. The second answer is often the truth. 

This is all it takes. 

The next time I glanced at that spot, I was on my gleaming GS1250. Turning off the motorway, I thought of Steven and the lessons that the experience had taught me. Sometimes all it takes is a glance and we can pick up on the tiniest of calls for help. The ‘I’m fine’ reply….it must be said thousands of times a day around the world. 

Yet, when someone asks, the reply is often a facade response. Maybe it’s because we ask the question so often, it’s become almost not a question at all. It’s become a facade phrase, alongside Have A Nice Day.

But it’s the second time of asking that we need to get to. Yes, it takes a little more time and effort, but it really is worth it. 

You never know….asking twice may help one person or maybe even save them.

You can watch the Zero Suicide Alliance video here… https://www.zerosuicidealliance.com.

It really is worth it. 

Gareth 

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