So, when I first told my grandfather (The major male influence in my life) I was building a motorcycle in my shop classes at school, he stood there silent for a moment. I was 17 at the time. I'd ridden off road on vacations, but street bikes he told me were "A different type of animal"
He had me follow him across the street from his house, had me take off my shirt (You didn't argue with gramps, and you always learned from his lessons) Si. I did that, and as he asked, I laid down on the asphalt. He grabbed my feet and SLOOOWLY walked back across the street, dragging me.
There was no real damage, just some minor scratches, but man, did that freaking HURT.
"That was zero miles an hour" he said "Just imagine what going down at sixty will do..."
"Ride with the best gear you can afford, improve and upgrade when and as you can, and never ride with out your gear." Gramps was a master Tool and Die maker. He was the day lead on the Golden gate bridge project. He made any bolts I couldn't find for that first bike. The engine was a '47 knucklehead (I will NEVER own a Harley again) and it leaked oil so badly my friends called it "The Rainbow Maker" because when it rained.... Riding on my own oil slick was just plain stupid.
My fault, your fault, someone else's fault; it don't matter crap once you and that bike part ways until you come to a full stop. What matters between those two points is your ability to fall correctly, and the gear you have on. Not to mention any impediments you may encounter while coming to that full stop...