The Practical Application of Newton’s Three Laws of Motion or…………AHH SHIT!

In Three Parts


I was never a star pupil in school. I was lazy, always was, always will be. The old fashioned report cards that the teachers sent home always said the same thing. “Curt shows promise but is unwilling to put forth the effort required to be an excellent student.”

This is what I have come to know as a “shit sandwich”. For those who don’t understand the term I will dissect the sentence. “Curt shows promise” is one slice of bread. Harmless all by itself and even a bit of flavor, perhaps leading the reader to prepare for the meat. The sentence ends with the words “excellent student”. So, a quick glance at the two slices of bread could lead one to believe that Curt shows promise and is an excellent student. But. I love that word. It is sort of like saying, “hold my beer” or “watch this”.

“but is unwilling to put forth the effort required”. This is the shit in the sandwich. It killed my self-esteem. Okay, not really, but it could have if I had cared. I didn’t. I was too busy riding motorcycles, fishing and being a boy to really care what some teacher thought about me.

I digress. The purpose of this article is to discuss the practical application of Newton’s three laws of motion. The first three paragraphs merely serve to inform the reader that I learn things the hard way, generally through the repeated application of pain.

Newton’s first law.

“An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an unbalanced force. An object in motion continues in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.
This law is often called
"the law of inertia".”

I learned this lesson early one Sunday morning as my parents lay sleeping. Mom’s new Yamaha 100 Twin sat in our basement garage next to Dad’s equally new Yamaha. This was back in the days when even small street bikes came equipped with the center stand that most cruisers lack today. I was a boy filled with curiosity and imagination and I loved those bikes. I was also forbidden to sit on them unless Dad was around. But, I am a slow learner.

This particular morning Dad was going to take me to the local ball field and let me ride his bike in circles while he and a friend drank beer and lied to each other. Of course I was too small to actually touch the ground or even the footpegs so Dad would put me in front of him, drop the bike into gear, ease the clutch out and , when the bike was in motion, simply stand up and let me ride out from under him. I would ride slow circles around the playground until they ran out of beer.

So, this Sunday morning I sat on the basement steps waiting for Dad. I imagined myself roaring around the world on the little 100 Twin and, like the fool I still am, I simply had to get on the damned thing. Absolutely certain that I would hear my parents rise from their bed in time to get off the bike, I climbed on the shiny new bike. I sat there, arms spread wide gripping the handlebars, making motorcycle noises and tearing across the landscape only my mind could conjure. I was wearing Mom’s new Bell helmet, yanking on the handlebars because, the way the bike balanced on the center stand, the rear wheel was in the air and the front was on the concrete and if I yanked hard enough to turn the bars that front wheel would somehow torque the legs of the stand and the bike would move. Sideways, but it would move.

Faster and faster I rode, the white lines on the imaginary highway becoming dots, the motorcycle sounds emanating from my 6 year old mouth becoming louder and louder until, my Dad asked as he stood at the bottom of the steps, “ What the hell are you doing?”. As I whipped my head around I yanked on the handlebars, the helmet fell forward over my eyes, my butt slid sideways on the seat and the bike fell to one to side.

This, this was my first motorcycle related “ahhh shit” moment. As the bike tipped it was suddenly clear to me that I was about to crash, not just Mom’s bike, but Dad’s as well.

AHHHHHH SHIT !!!!!!!!

Barely 6 and I was already dead. The tragic end to the greatest motorcycle rider ever to grace the face of this earth. Both bikes and I went down in a tangle of chrome, plastic, steel and a father’s wrath. I prayed that I would die in the crash. There would grandeur in that. Being beaten to death by my pissed off dad would just be anti-climatic.

When the sound of crashing finally ceased I lay in the twisted aftermath. I peaked from beneath the helmet, through the clutter of chrome and plastic, to see Dad sitting on the steps, face in his hands, moaning. He looked up, shook his head and said, “Come over here, I am going to beat you.” I went, he did.

I learned several things that day that relate to Newton’s first law. “An object at rest will remain at rest unless acted on by an unbalanced force.” I was an unbalanced force that kept my father in motion for more years than I can count.