Discussing intuition doesn't sound very scientific, but I’ll bet that a lot of veteran riders will agree that developing a good sense of when to trust your instincts is an integral part staying safer out there.

As a newer ride, I first bought a Honda 250 to learn on. It was a perfect starter bike—small, easy to ride, confidence inspiring. And I rode it a lot.

One summer afternoon, I convinced the bosses that it was a crime for me to remain at work any longer that day. After pleading my case and counting the number of Saturdays I’d logged over the winter, they sprung me, and at 2:00 pm I headed out for a nice long ride along the shores of Lake Ontario.

Everything was perfect: the sun was high and warm, the lake kept the temperature at a very pleasant 80 degrees. Traffic was light, and I settled into a very comfortable ride, enjoying the speed and the scenery and the feeling that I was getting to play hooky for the afternoon.

My trip out was uneventful. I hit the little town of Sodus, NY, and got purposely lost on the many back roads around the little town until I managed to find my way back there by dinner time. After a enjoying great burger on a deck overlooking the bay I decided to head back for home.

I took a slightly different route back, not wanting to bore myself with the same ride home as I had taken out. This route hit several more small towns and villages than my ride out, so, of course, there were many more stop lights and intersections to be handled.

About three quarters of the way home I ended up missing second gear after taking off from a stoplight not just once but three separate times. Sure I was a newer rider, but even I could manage to shift from 1st to 2nd with reasonable ease. Something just wasn’t right.

But I got through most of the other stops without trouble, so I paid no attention to my gut and kept riding.

However, a few stoplights from home I was forced to pay attention to my gut. I attempted to downshift as I approached a light, and panicked more than just a little when I couldn’t find the shifter. I quickly realized it had come detached from the bike! Luckily there was no one in front or behind me, and I could simply slow down, stop, and walk the bike to the side of the road.

Had I listened to my gut earlier, I would have pulled over and inspected the bike. Missing those shifts was weird, and caused my instincts to prickle. I thought the shifter felt a little funny, but I just pressed on anyway. If I had pulled over, I would have noticed that one of the bolts that attaches the shifter to the frame was starting to work itself loose. My little Honda 250 buzzed like a swarm of angry bees at speeds above 60 mph. After several hours of that kind of workout my hands and feet would go numb from the vibration. The 250 was not meant to be a touring bike. And just as I was being jostled and vibrated, so was every component on the bike. Nuts and bolts were literally working themselves loose, and my shifter was the first (and luckily, last) thing to go.

My missing shifter was what it took for me to listen to the voices that were saying “Something is wrong. Pull over.” I should have listened way sooner, and I’m glad I get to tell this story and not one that involves something more serious, like crashing.

Other riders report times when they simply abandon a ride because “they just don’t feel right” about it. I myself have since done the same thing. Not because anything concrete presented itself, but just because my gut said “Go home.”

Suffice it to say I listen to my inner voice more now. I’ve learned to trust my instincts not just when they tell me something is wrong, but also when they tell me everything is fine, too.