My Bike Accident

I have had just a couple of accidents since I started riding. In the most serious one I was hit by a car and the motorcycle destroyed: On a Sunday afternoon in April, about 10 years ago, I went for one of my first rides of the season. It was a fairly short ride, after which I stopped and had lunch before returning home. I was three blocks away from my home when it happened (yes, it's true that they happen close to home):

About 80 feet ahead, a car pulled out from a parking spot into the oncoming lane after doing his shoulder check and looking behind carefully; and then immediately moved into a u-turn, without ever looking ahead. If he had looked forward even once (I was watching him through his windshield), he would have seen me. It was around 1:00PM; his car was facing south and I was travelling north, so the sun wasn't in his eyes or mine. I was riding a bright red-white-and-blue 1986 Honda 750 Interceptor, with the high beams on. I was also wearing a white and blue jacket, and a bright red-white-and-blue helmet. I was 80 feet away. Visibility was not a problem, but his lack of attention was.

In any case, I was now in survival mode, and took a precious 1/4 second to analyze the situation. I didn't have enough room to go around the rear of the car (old man, big car). I also didn't have enough room to stop. I had already started to slow down from 60-65km/hr, since the light had turned amber just before his car started to move. As he started to turn I geared down while I hammered the brakes, concentrating on the front, and getting that perfect howling sound that told me that I had maximum braking traction before the front wheel broke loose, and keeping it right on that edge. The tires were still warm from the ride, which helped; but I then realized that maximum braking wasn't nearly enough, and that I would impact the side of the car right on the open passenger window. I would strike there at maybe 50km/hr, probably killing his blue-haired wife, and probably myself. At the very least we would both be severely injured, if we lived, so that was not an option.

That only left me with the option of scooting through in front of the car, between his front bumper on the left, and the curb and a fire hydrant on the right. The 1/4 second had expired; I was now less than 30 feet away, and the window about 4 feet wide and closing. I flicked the bike to the right while releasing the brakes, to put it up against the curb, and flicked it upright again, while whacking the throttle wide open - no time to change gears, just gas it and go. I hunched over the bike and blurred forward, just in time to clear the fire hydrant, but not the right corner of the car's front bumper. The bumper struck the bike somewhere around or just behind my right foot in a glancing blow, and I was sent tumbling through the air.

As I flew through the air (cursing the driver almost absent-mindedly. I believe it was the "A" word), I knew that I would be okay; as it was just my weekend flashing before my eyes, not my life. I half-chuckled and relaxed a bit, as I finished flipping on my back just in time to hit the sidewalk, and tumble into the side of the Golden Dragon, a Chinese restaurant that I used to frequent. But that's another story. The whole thing took about 3 or 4 seconds, from start to finish. It's amazing how much thinking you can do in such a short period of time.

I lay on my back moaning, and was suddenly looking at the sky through a circle of faces. The area was fairly busy, as it was a beautiful spring day, and there were also many people leaving the Salvation Army church service at the same time as the driver. A bunch of people ran over to the now red stoplight, to stop the elderly gentleman, who had blithely kept going. He later explained to the policeman that he hadn't seen me at all, and thought that the crunching sound was a pop can getting crushed under his tire.

In any case I was getting attention, and was not too badly hurt, the driver was stopped, and the policeman there within a couple of minutes. A doctor who was passing by in a car checked me out until the officer arrived, and informed him that I was not severely injured before leaving. I was able to sit up at this point, and remove my helmet with some difficulty, as my arms didn't want to work properly. I got a nervous laugh from the crowd by pulling a movie (I had stopped at the video store after leaving the restaurant) out of my jacket, and declaring that I guessed I wouldn't be watching it that afternoon. I think I told a couple of other lame jokes. I get "funny" when I'm in shock.

I happened to have a cell phone with me, and immediately made some calls. I had been using a cell phone for work for about two years at this point, but had never had one in an emergency situation. In the few minutes between making my statement to the policeman and the arrival of the ambulance; I had arranged for a friend to pick up the ruins of my motorcycle, two other friends were meeting me at the hospital, and everyone who needed to know had been informed of the accident. I have never gone anywhere without a cell phone since.

At the hospital, I was further poked, prodded and twisted, and the final damages added up: I was injured asymmetrically, with the lower left side of my body injured by the initial impact, and the upper right portion injured by the impact to the sidewalk. My left ankle suffered torn tendons from impact with the hood of the car or the tank of the bike, which hyper-extended my foot hard enough to grind red paint into the shoe that's still visible today (yup, I still have those shoes), and tear a chunk off the sole. The tendons also pulled a chunk of bone the size of a quarter off as they tore, so I was placed in a walking cast for a couple of weeks, to keep the foot immobilized. My right shoulder separated when I bounced off that shoulder blade, and that arm was placed in a sling.

All in all, I was very lucky (thanks to making it past the fire hydrant), suffering mostly soft-tissue damage and bruising. It felt like my entire body was severely sprained, but nothing was actually broken, or permanently damaged. It was a week before I could do more than shuffle out of bed for brief periods. Even with the painkillers. And the scotch. It was more than a month before I graduated from crutches (awkward with the separated shoulder) to a cane, and around two years before I considered myself fully and completely recovered.

Would such a close call make me consider giving up motorcycles? Not a chance. Every time that I analysed the accident afterward, I felt extremely proud. I did all of the right things, and I did them extremely well. That was probably the best riding that I had done in my life, to that point. I had been in enough car accidents (sad but true) to know better than to freeze up, give up, and try to ride it out. I had already learned to keep actively trying to seek a way out, to mitigate things. I knew to use that peculiar and cool time dilation factor, where everything seems to slow down, to my advantage.

I had also been riding long enough to be able to approach things analytically, and view my riding objectively, with a view to constant improvement. Long enough to know the value of practicing emergency manoeuvres before they are required; practicing emergency braking with every new bike, or set of tires, or set of brakes. Experienced enough to know the high degree of alertness that is required, and to maintain it. Experienced enough also, to read everything that I could about riding better, and to practice it when I could. Educated enough to know that "laying her down" would have been the stupidest thing I could have done, and which would have resulted in just one fatality - mine. I re-learned the value of proper protective gear, which I was wearing at the time. And I never much liked that bike, anyway.

More to come...