When we went around the corner of the wooded road, I saw it. The worst sight for a motorcyclist. An unavoidable disaster. A large section of the gravel and dirt road washed away from melting snow and recent rainstorms.

I slammed down on the ground. Crack. The jolt of pain pierced through my body. I lay still for a moment gasping for a breath.
I fractured my collar bone. Will I ever be okay again? I can’t be complaining now. I needed to get home. The black bear capital is not a place to be stranded. I managed to get back on my bike and scurry home. I rode one-handed and with bent handle bars.
Upon returning home, I took off my protective gear. It was scored down to the very fibers that held it together.
I sat down inside. Trembling in pain. Maybe it’s just a bone bruise. Maybe I’m suffering from shock. I fought through it for three days before deciding to see a doctor. He confirmed that my bone was fractured and I also tore muscle tissue. He sent me home with an arm sling and said to take it easy. It took me over a month to recover. But I avoided surgery.