Still Love Motorcycles From a Distance

A motorcycle accident will give you pause. Two motorcycle accidents will not only give you pause, but will give you a noticeable limp, and a different outlook on what life you have left.

I guess the first accident was not severe enough. After all, all I did was crack my left tibia by clipping a large chunk of semi-truck tire that was concealed by darkness. It put me in a walking cast for several months.

Admttedly, it kept me from riding for several years. I even sold the cherry red, fully lowered, white-walled Harley-Davidson Fatboy that I had been riding when the accident occurred. But if you have ever been a rider, you know how difficult it can be to get through Spring in Wisconsin without the ability to ride the country roads, the smell of life returning to the soil, the still-cold wind across your face.

So, I thought, what trouble could I get into buying a Honda 650 Shadow? It was a beautiful little bike, with lines similar to a Harley, in an unusual burnt orange finish.

I ran the country roads, always wearing my helmet, for nearly three weeks. Then on a Sunday morning, after having worked a gig with my band at Lehman's Supper Club in Rice Lake, and knowing I needed to make that deposit to cover the checks I had written for the band, I hopped on the bike and thought: "it's only a couple of miles to RCU from here, I won't be going more than 25mph, I don't need a helmet" and I set out.

When I regained consciousness I was staring at the ceiling of the ICU in Luther Hospital wondering what the hell happened. And do you know to this day I still don't know.

From what I can surmise, I left the road (probably because an automobile was moving into my lane and I was in the blind spot) and jumped the curb, striking a glancing blow off a telephone pole. I can tell from the damage to my body that I had begun to turn away from the pole as the break in my right leg is to the outside; the same side that I suffered a pretty sound concussion.

There were, oddly, no witnesses, and none came forward. I received a traffic ticket to put salt in my wounds.

Here I am, nearly three Summers later, with two operations to show for it, the second to completely replace my knee. Oh, I am not whining and complaining, believe me. I should be dead. Every day I give thanks that I am still here.

Out of the experience came a greater appreciation of my wife, Kim, and all my friends who have been so supportive of me through some pretty rough times.

I will never run again, but my running days were nearly past anyway. Will I ever ride a motorcycle again? Nope! do I miss it?
With the weather the way it has been this week, ya damn betcha!