I’ll tell you why endurists are so careful. In the endurist, falling is the standard mode of operation. The Endurists fly through the wheel, the Endurists send the car into an independent flight at the end of the rise, the Endurists flew into the bushes from the track, the Endurists catch holes, cows and pebbles, the barrel turns out to be rotten and not to withstand weight, and the stone turns out to be not round enough and rolls over at the moment when the centrer of steel has already rotted on it. The endurist is anchored in the defence by the ears, he flies into the tree with his mouth, he plunges on his foot with a hot release down, he crashes on the branches and he tries to save the car, because the repair is expensive. If the endurist rides for more than a year and is still alive, he rides on the machine in any situation so as to collect bones, if something happens to him. He does not perceive falling as some abstraction that "is happening once and to someone, but not to him now," like a lump flying 160 in a sport on red. Falling for him is the norm and way of life, and not only his own, but also comrades, who may not fit and suddenly crash the neck under the front wheel. True, there is an endurist weakness: they hate the road and try not to show it at all. This deprives most drivers of the last chance to see such a legendary character as a clever motorcyclist.