Sunday, February 11, 2007

Prologue

On August 3, 2006, a funny thing happened to me on the way home from Lakeview. Okay, not funny more like tragic. I wrecked my bike…badly. Bambi one, me zero.

Now, I’m fine. I broke my left ankle, but it’s a clean break and should heal quickly. Otherwise, I got away unscathed. Moose, my beautiful ’03 FJR didn’t fair so well. Moose is history.

I was west bound on Oregon’s highway 58 in the area of Dexter at about 9:45 pm Thursday night. It was dark, of course, but weather conditions were good. Traffic was heavy (well, heavier than usual) with lots of oncoming traffic. I had been constantly flipping back and for between my low and high beams and my wonderful Philips HID driving lights (thank you, Catfish). My speed was not excessive, probably 10 over. I’d seen a lot of LE officers in this area in recent weeks and was keeping my speed reasonable.

I was in between milepost 9 and 10 and an oncoming car had just gone by. I still had my low beams on when I saw the deer, a buck, walking into my lane of travel. I was hard on the brakes; too hard. My rear wheel locked and slowly started coming to my left. I tried (really, I did) to slowly let up the pressure on the rear but didn’t go slowly enough. My rear tire regained traction and snapped back into line. This overpowered my front tire, which was probably at it’s traction limit under my hard braking. Moose and I went down.

We humans are a funny breed, rider’s maybe more so. What should be one’s thoughts as you fall to some uncertain fate? Should I have been thinking of my life, my deeds undone, or the loved ones I might be leaving behind? Should I have been thinking of my Maker and what lies beyond this mortal world? I’m not sure. But my thoughts at the time were simply this: I knew my beautiful, beautiful motorcycle was about to become just so much junk and that I should have just torpedoed that *%^!!#&$ deer. I should have just whacked the throttle and let that forest rat have it.

I tumbled, no slide, to a stop in the middle of my lane. In the classic motorcycle tradition, I tried to stand before I had stopped moving, resulting in one more fall to the pavement. There was traffic behind me, so hanging out in the middle of the road was not the place to be. Moved to the edge and saw Moose, headlights still on, 6 feet down in a ditch filled with blackberries. Bambi, over course, was gone and no where to be seen. He lives to kill another day.

A good Samaritan named Bill stopped to help. I really, really wanted Moose out of that ditch, but there was just no way. Getting her upright and powering her out just resulted in wheel spin and sliding down two more feet farther into the ditch. Bill ran me back a half a mile to the Chevron to call home and the police. Trooper Ratcliff of the Oregon State Police was the consummate professional, although he’s no medic. Since I was walking, he assured me my ankle probably wasn’t broken. He’s young and he’ll learn.

I think the most painful part of the whole event was watching Moose being dragged on her side all the way out of that ditch. Since Patrick the tow driver had to come in at an angle, I think she was dragged 30 feet. AAA got me all the way home since I was within 100 miles of Monmouth. I tipped Patrick $20 for being such a good guy.

I’d welcome ya all’s insights into this. In hindsight, I know I made at least a couple of mistakes. One, I failed to turn my high beams back on after the last oncoming vehicle passed. I had been turning the things on an off for mile after mile and had just gotten tired of dimming them. I got lazy. I’m sure having my HID’s on would have given my enough time to avoid the “surprise” of the deer in my low beams. Two, in a panic, I locked my rear wheel. This could have been avoided by a rider with more skill or a rider on an ABS equipped bike. I could be riding today instead of writing this if I had either of those two things. Lastly, I was complacent. This is a commute I’ve been making twice a week since last December after taking a temporary position at the new prison in Lakeview. I have never seen a deer in this area and my guard was down. Since the accident, I realize that I had never been on this stretch of road during this time of day. Even though I had ridden this highway a hundred times, I really had no idea what this road was like during this time of day, during this time of year. My guard was down and it bit me.

The one thing I did do right? Quality gear. In this months issue of Motorcyclist, Charles Everitt talks about returning to motorcycling after a 10 year hiatus. He’s very impressed with the quality and quantity of equipment available. I concur. My Aerostich came through super. I wore a small hole in my right thigh pocket and there are a few small areas of abrasion. Otherwise, you almost can’t tell I crash-tested the thing. I’m not even sore which tells me my suit’s high-impact padding did its job. My HJC has a few scrapes but I have no damage. My Held gloves (thank you, thank you, Kerry) worked fan-flipping-tastic. The rivets are scraped, but the leather is hardly abraded and all the seams held. My wife doesn’t even think they need to be replaced (but they will be). My only injury happens to coincide with my only gear shortcut. The boots were lightly-armored Garnes sold under the Yamaha brand. I got them on clearance for $70. I will spend more for more protection from now on.

So, I’m just grateful to be talking to you all. This has been a tough year. First, Jerry Smith and I were hit head on in a car (note: my mind didn’t flash to my Maker that day either. I thought “That *%^!!#&$ is going to hit us head on”. I’m very astute) and now this. I will ride the ’07 IBR in 12 months. Looks like I have my work cut out for me.