OTB
09-12-2010, 11:17 AM
Woke up to light showers this AM after many weeks of dryness; I wasn't planning to ride as I had to go to the warehouse with the Sprinter to load up for the store. When you are as old as I am, everything reminds you of something else in your past and today was no exception.
The rain was a cross between mist and showers; really, really light showers.
It brought me back to my (hopefully) last crash; the one that left me with a permanent limp, one shoulder higher than the other, a deep, abiding respect for the role of changing conditions, the role of my mental state of mind and riding and a determination to never do the sky-ground-sky-ground-samba ever again.
Back in 1980 I was still living in my home state of Minnesota and I had just purchased a brand-new GS650G (shaft drive). I'd put a few hundred miles or so on it and was getting comfortable with my transition from two-strokes to four. We'd had a hot, dry summer and no rain for 5-6 weeks and we were all getting tired of the dry, dusty conditions. I got up that morning in August to the weatherman predicting rain and showers in the afternoon. I paid the forecast no mind as I was well-versed in all-weather riding and had no fear (nor much respect) for the approaching showers. I packed my rainsuit in the Windjammer fairing pocket about 4 am and headed off to work at the restaurant where I was the chef.
I spent a long day with my staff serving a busy dining room and got ready to boogie home after the dinner rush; put on my leather jacket, riding boots, gloves, helmet and finally put on my old beat-up Tourmaster rain suit as it was doing the same kind of light misting as it was when I woke up to today. Off I went into heavy early evening traffic.
On my trip back home I transitioned from dry to lightly wet and back again, as the showers were spotty and not every area in the Twin Cities was getting rain; no big deal, right? I was tired and in a hurry to get home. I knew that the roads were going to be greasy with new rain and old oil and dirt, but I was an old pro at this, so no big deal, right?
I was approaching my turnoff ramp on the freeway, only about 6-8 blocks to get home; a stretch of 280 N that jogged to the left, jogged to the right, and my offramp was in the middle of the right jog with a hard 20mph off-camber 90 degree right hander ending at a T stop. It was just starting to mist enough so the well-worn concrete had taken on a sheen.
Traffic was moving along at 65-70 in this 55 posted area and I was moving with traffic. About 4-500 yards prior to my turnoff I began downshifting and slowing for my turn; there was a white VW Golf about 150 yards in front to me also signaling for the turnoff.
I entered the turnoff lane and that's when it happened: the VW in front of me entered the right-hander too hot, braked and spun, coming to a stop in the middle of the lane. I had been daydreaming about dinner and relaxing at home so my recognition of the trouble in front of me was slow...my reactions were slow and I knew it, and I grabbed a big handful of brakes; dual drilled discs, much more powerful that my old single solid disc on the GT550 I had just transitioned from (the whole time my brain screaming at me "NO!NO!NONONONONO!!!!").....................
The bars were WRENCHED from my grasp as the combination of too much brake and slimy road conditions did their work...the front wheel stopped turning and then found traction again an instant later; I was pitched over the bike in a classic highside and hit solidly; I knew something had crunched but I was full of adrenaline and felt nothing. I watched my bike slide by me, first on the left side and then as the tires contacted the curb, the bike stood up, rolled about 10 yards, and then flopped over on the other side leaving not much unscathed.
I was so pumped with adrenaline and I knew there was traffic behind me, I popped up while a was still sliding and stumbled and then fell forward again. I popped up again, grabbed the bars and wrenched the 500+ pounds of bike upright and hopped on...motor still running.
I pulled off the road to avoid traffic, took quick stock that everything seemed to be functioning and wobbled off the 4-5 blocks remaining to get HOME.
I pulled into the driveway, fished out the sidestand and then tried to dismount the bike and realized I had a problem....I couldn't move any of my right side below my waist, my pants were suddenly too tight, and my waistline on my right side hurt like CRAZY.
After my very PO'd spouse helped me off the bike, she loaded me into the car and off to the ER we went.
As luck wouldn't have it, I got a very PO'd doc who HATED motorcycles and between tsk-tsking while he looked me over and asking if I was done riding those MURDERCYCLES for ever, proceeded to poke and jab seeming to enjoy every grunt of pain I made.
He told me i had a VERY large bruise on my hip full of fluid that would have to be drained but said there wasn't anything else wrong with me. He sent nurse Ratchett in with a big syringe with a large-bore needle in and they proceeded to drain the hematoma which was softball sized by this time...sans pain meds or Novocaine......
I went back a few days later for follow up and the doctor said my pain was normal and was just part of the healing process. No meds...
I walked around limping for weeks till I went to another doctor who took some xrays and determined I had broken part of the hip joint and the edge of my pelvis; they wanted to rebreak everything and pin it all back up and I would be out of work for months and they couldn't guarantee I'd be any better....
Couldn't afford to do that, so I am good at predicting weather changes now, and walk with a hitch and look crooked in the mirror and have my suits tailored to hide the worst of it...
... and I made it my life's practice to know as much as I could about this thing that we do, not out of fear, but out of respect. I still like riding in the rain, but I do it differently...matter of fact, it changed my whole approach to riding.
I hope this helps somebody.
The rain was a cross between mist and showers; really, really light showers.
It brought me back to my (hopefully) last crash; the one that left me with a permanent limp, one shoulder higher than the other, a deep, abiding respect for the role of changing conditions, the role of my mental state of mind and riding and a determination to never do the sky-ground-sky-ground-samba ever again.
Back in 1980 I was still living in my home state of Minnesota and I had just purchased a brand-new GS650G (shaft drive). I'd put a few hundred miles or so on it and was getting comfortable with my transition from two-strokes to four. We'd had a hot, dry summer and no rain for 5-6 weeks and we were all getting tired of the dry, dusty conditions. I got up that morning in August to the weatherman predicting rain and showers in the afternoon. I paid the forecast no mind as I was well-versed in all-weather riding and had no fear (nor much respect) for the approaching showers. I packed my rainsuit in the Windjammer fairing pocket about 4 am and headed off to work at the restaurant where I was the chef.
I spent a long day with my staff serving a busy dining room and got ready to boogie home after the dinner rush; put on my leather jacket, riding boots, gloves, helmet and finally put on my old beat-up Tourmaster rain suit as it was doing the same kind of light misting as it was when I woke up to today. Off I went into heavy early evening traffic.
On my trip back home I transitioned from dry to lightly wet and back again, as the showers were spotty and not every area in the Twin Cities was getting rain; no big deal, right? I was tired and in a hurry to get home. I knew that the roads were going to be greasy with new rain and old oil and dirt, but I was an old pro at this, so no big deal, right?
I was approaching my turnoff ramp on the freeway, only about 6-8 blocks to get home; a stretch of 280 N that jogged to the left, jogged to the right, and my offramp was in the middle of the right jog with a hard 20mph off-camber 90 degree right hander ending at a T stop. It was just starting to mist enough so the well-worn concrete had taken on a sheen.
Traffic was moving along at 65-70 in this 55 posted area and I was moving with traffic. About 4-500 yards prior to my turnoff I began downshifting and slowing for my turn; there was a white VW Golf about 150 yards in front to me also signaling for the turnoff.
I entered the turnoff lane and that's when it happened: the VW in front of me entered the right-hander too hot, braked and spun, coming to a stop in the middle of the lane. I had been daydreaming about dinner and relaxing at home so my recognition of the trouble in front of me was slow...my reactions were slow and I knew it, and I grabbed a big handful of brakes; dual drilled discs, much more powerful that my old single solid disc on the GT550 I had just transitioned from (the whole time my brain screaming at me "NO!NO!NONONONONO!!!!").....................
The bars were WRENCHED from my grasp as the combination of too much brake and slimy road conditions did their work...the front wheel stopped turning and then found traction again an instant later; I was pitched over the bike in a classic highside and hit solidly; I knew something had crunched but I was full of adrenaline and felt nothing. I watched my bike slide by me, first on the left side and then as the tires contacted the curb, the bike stood up, rolled about 10 yards, and then flopped over on the other side leaving not much unscathed.
I was so pumped with adrenaline and I knew there was traffic behind me, I popped up while a was still sliding and stumbled and then fell forward again. I popped up again, grabbed the bars and wrenched the 500+ pounds of bike upright and hopped on...motor still running.
I pulled off the road to avoid traffic, took quick stock that everything seemed to be functioning and wobbled off the 4-5 blocks remaining to get HOME.
I pulled into the driveway, fished out the sidestand and then tried to dismount the bike and realized I had a problem....I couldn't move any of my right side below my waist, my pants were suddenly too tight, and my waistline on my right side hurt like CRAZY.
After my very PO'd spouse helped me off the bike, she loaded me into the car and off to the ER we went.
As luck wouldn't have it, I got a very PO'd doc who HATED motorcycles and between tsk-tsking while he looked me over and asking if I was done riding those MURDERCYCLES for ever, proceeded to poke and jab seeming to enjoy every grunt of pain I made.
He told me i had a VERY large bruise on my hip full of fluid that would have to be drained but said there wasn't anything else wrong with me. He sent nurse Ratchett in with a big syringe with a large-bore needle in and they proceeded to drain the hematoma which was softball sized by this time...sans pain meds or Novocaine......
I went back a few days later for follow up and the doctor said my pain was normal and was just part of the healing process. No meds...
I walked around limping for weeks till I went to another doctor who took some xrays and determined I had broken part of the hip joint and the edge of my pelvis; they wanted to rebreak everything and pin it all back up and I would be out of work for months and they couldn't guarantee I'd be any better....
Couldn't afford to do that, so I am good at predicting weather changes now, and walk with a hitch and look crooked in the mirror and have my suits tailored to hide the worst of it...
... and I made it my life's practice to know as much as I could about this thing that we do, not out of fear, but out of respect. I still like riding in the rain, but I do it differently...matter of fact, it changed my whole approach to riding.
I hope this helps somebody.