For most of the two and a half weeks that I've been on crutches, my computer was down. I did some stupid thing on it that I shouldn't have, and two friends and two techs (and probably two hundred dollars) later, it is finally back in working order.
The crutches: an old motorcycle accident has come back to haunt me. my right knee went out, way out.
The accident: Several years ago, I had my old screaming-orange Yamaha 360 (haha!). It was a beater of a bike, and at the time, I knew little about bikes except that I really liked 'em. Anyways, this bike had a loose chain and it was running on one coil. Simply put, she wasn't getting full power, the lights may or may not work; not good. Then I got this rich burgundy '83 550 Honda Nighthawk, which had no chain, but a shaft drive, with excellent throttle response, in great shape.
One fateful afternoon, about a week after I got the Nighthawk, I was at a stop sign. I was kind of manic, I had PMS (or pmt, if you will), and a dozen things on my mind. like, was I going to the races that weekend? If I did, would I run into my ex? What was I going to wear? White lace cami and jeans, or black teddy with chaps? When was I going back to Dane County, and when I did, would I take the car or the bike? Let's see, the bike has insurance, but the car doesn't. If I did take the bike, how would I pack it? blah, blah, blah. The things that can run through one's mind....
So there I was at this stop sign, traffic on the crossroad did not stop. I was out in the country, but there were cars coming from opposite directions, one each way. The quick thoughts that ran through my mind, were, of course, can I make it across before they get to this crossroad? Thinking I was on my old 360 (with the loose chain and one coil), I cracked the throttle wide open and popped the clutch like I would have to get the 360 off the line, pronto.
Well, I'd forgotten that I was on the new 550, (with the excellent throttle response,) so when I cranked it and popped it, "holy shit, Batman, I see sky! I'm not s'posed to be seeing sky!" (this was my first wheelie.) You bet your butt, I was hangin on for dear life. (amazingly enough, I didn't need an immediate change of underwear.) I wheelied through the intersection (before the cars got there, alright), down the road apiece, then veered off between a mailbox post, a light pole, a transformer box, and a billboard. I'm pretty sure what happened was that the bike and I kind of tripped on the light pole guide wire and cart wheeled, with me hangin on for dear life.
I got, The light version: the right side of my body pretty darn messed up. Gory details: my right hand crushed, arm broken in two places, bruised ribs, sprained shoulder, hip, knee, and ankle. Hanging on, there was a big mistake -- jump off the bike, tuck and roll-- or if you have a better safer idea, please post and let me know.
While I was still seeing stars, I managed to loosen the helmet strap and pop up the visor, so I could breathe. the first things I thought, were "thank God, I'm alive!" shortly followed by, "aw, F*** THIS HURTS!"
The people from the house across the road were mowing the grass and tending the flower garden. They came running across the road asking if I was alright. Did I look alright? I'm betting not. God bless em, they called my dad, and an ambulance, brought me some water, and I was shortly on my way to the local hospital and a shot of Demerol.
I've never had so much fun on the x-ray table in my life. I got my arm set and caste, my leg immobilized, and a pair of crutches to try to manage. With both arm and leg on same side affected, that was a real neat trick.
A couple of weeks later, I was on my way to visit the chiropractor. Driving with my left foot I had my right leg up on the bench seat. With my right arm in a sling I had to steering with the left hand as well, I managed to get a speeding ticket.
The cop came and looked at me in the car, saw the mess I was in, and remarked that I must be the wheelie queen of Manitowoc County.
Despite my explanation as to why I was speeding, "tiny particles of bone matter were affecting my brain," I still got the ticket. When I finally got to my Chiropractor’s office, was he ever pissed at me! Oh, well, as for me though , I took the whole thing in stride, as part of the dues that I'd pay for riding in my lifetime. Five weeks with my arm in a cast during the middle of riding season. oh, well...
"They" say that the average per lifetime quota is one accident per motorcyclist. Well, this was my second. The first time I had a bike accident, I was learning how NOT to ride a motorcycle. Well, okay, they both were.
In spite of the dangers, I cannot imagine my life without "my motorcycle" to ride and care for, nor do I ever want to find out. Stupidity, insanity, stubbornness, addiction? perhaps a bit of all. It's as close as I can ever be to flying. It makes me happy. It may also be one of the things that make life as good as it can ever get
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Motorcycle Women Travel Tales