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As far as the other three go, the third one was silly. It's true though that accidents happen within five miles from home.
3. Happened in the winter months in the Northwest. Cold night followed by clear day, I'm heading less than a mile from my house to feed my girlfriends cat and bend through a shallow S- curve going about 20 mph. A 30' evergreen is shadowing the roadway like a steep triangle. Where I pass through the shadow is only 3 feet wide. My front tire passes through, leaning ever so slightly to the left. Down I go instantly, like some one yanking on the road in those old RF900 commercials or the Road Runner cartoons. Black ice! The bike only slides about 5 feet, but the swiftness of the impact was great enough pop a Costco size grape hole in my stator cover.
A neighbor is tending to his yard while watching me in sort of a panic, pick up the bike quickly and immediately start thumbing the starter button. He pipes up "I wouldn't do that if I were you" I said "Why?" " You have no oil in your engine " At that moment I hadn't even noticed. So there I am standing next to my bike in front of this guys yard with a giant puddle of very black engine oil pooling right in front of his driveway. He's not pleased but offered rags and a garbage can to swipe up the mess.
My fourth and a half crash was especially humiliating. It wasn't really a crash, but a tip over. This time I had my girlfriend at the time on the back. We were waiting for the car in front to turn right at a red light. The car creeps forward, I'm assuming its moving and glance left to see if its clear for me, it is. I let out the clutch and start moving forward, as I glance back in the direction I'm going. Well, the car that was creeping moments ago is still there being pressed firmly by my front wheel. My girlfriend and I tip over immediately, going Omph. Slick move Carter.
The fifth crash happened when I had a revoked license for too many upaid traffic violations from stupid highschool antics. Needless, to say while working at Mt. Baker a friend needs his motorcycle brought down to Bellingham from the mountain. I get directions to his house and jump at the chance to ride. It's illegal. but I don't care. I wont get caught.
I get to town, I can't or don't want to find his house. I end up having the bike for two weeks. Its a 79 CX-500 I think. I ride it back and fourth to the mountain for awhile (126 miles roundtrip) as this guy is out of town and I couldn't find his house.
My roommate begs me to give him a ride to the University. I flat out said no. I'm not even supposed to be riding alone or at all, I say. We argue, he insists I give him a ride, it imperative he makes it to the Psychology Lab. I reluctantly agree.
We leave the house, not a mile from home, we head up the hill where there is a y going to the left if you heading downhill. A place where the car is suppose to yeild. The truck coming down doesn't yeild, bam, head on into a truck. I go flying over the hood while tagging the front of it on the way and land on the edge of the road. I'm sore and cut up, but I can walk. My roommate is lying in a slump groaning in pain.
All the while the truck driver is driving back and forth over the bike mangling it underneath. He finally stops and backs up. The bike is totaled. The engine may be salvagable but thats it.
My roomate breaks his ankle and hip. Courts and lawyers insue. My roommates lawyer threatens to sue me. My friend disagrees, My lawyer through some loophole, gets my license reinstated and manages to allow me to pay off my numerous traffic violations and get legally back on the road with some cash in my pocket. Strange country we live in. Ends up the driver was born in 1917. He thought I was supposed to yeild.
The last one happened September 20, 1988. I justed purchased a Red 1980 GS 1100ET with a Russ Collins chrome header 14k on the clock for $1450 three weeks prior. A new girlfriend and I are heading to Mt. Baker on Highway 542. We're doing about 68mph in 55 zone. I had worked at the ski area for four years, so had been up and down the road at least 400 times. I'd say I knew the road well, like every turn by heart.
We're passing by the side of the Nooksack river with a gentle bend leading on to a long straight away. No side roads or houses, just a couple of overgrown dirtroads down to the river. Its about 2:30 in the afternoon sun fairly high in the sky behind us which is west. I see a white truck up ahead heading in the opposite direction, going abnormally slow in a 55 zone. I think to myself, thats odd there are no roads around here, what is he doing?
Just as you pass by a car on a two lane highway or so it seems, this guy starts crossing into my lane. Not fast by any means, but extremely slow, like he's totally confused. I think what the F__K are you doing. He stops on the diagonal, completely blocking my lane. His rear bumper is even hanging over the centerline still. What to do, quick, real quick. I begin to apply heavy front brake while simultaneously rear braking. The bed of the truck is approaching too fast. Next thought. Go off the road in the other lane. NO! Big trees on the other side of the ditch. Off the front brake, fish tail around on the rear. Big skid, bike starts to swap violently too the left. Let off on the rear momentarily, must stay on the road, body steer to the right, rear brake. Bike starts swapping to left again lean right to stay on the road. BAM! The front of the cam cover contacts the rear wrapped edge of truck bumper at a 15-20 degree lean angle. My right leg gets ripped back and contacts my girlfriends leg. Both tires tuck and my hands are still on the bars. The right bar hits first and the brake lever pinches back and breaks part of my hand. We seperate from the bike. My head never hits the pavement. I'm spinning around counter clockwise in sort of a sitting position. I'm grasping my right thigh behind my knee as I slow to a stop.
My bike is still sliding right down the middle of the road about a 100 feet from where I rest. The sole of my foot is laying on its side, but I'm sitting upright. There's a huge white gash across my kneecap. Where is my girlfriend? She's back behind me on the shoulder on the whiteline in the opposite lane. She's conscious, but in total shock, shaking uncontrollably.
An old couple is first on the scene, they ask the somewhat silly question, are you alright? Well no not really. Can I get you anything? Hows my girlfriend? Shes hurt but ok. Actually in my Galindo tailpack in the side pouch is a can of Copenhagen, can you get that for me? Ok she says while her husband presses a nice pink blouse against my wound until the paramedics show up.
When the paramedics show up I know one them. He asks me, should we take you to St. Lukes? I say no I still owe them from the last wreck. Do I owe you any money for pool? No you paid me off the paramedic says. This guy was a pool shark and slaughtered me numerous times in the past.
I end up breaking my ankle and my leg in five places below the knee along with part of my patella. My girlfriend, now my wife, chipped her femur and has a permanent gash across her knee. We both still ride, her on her own bike, not very often as we have two kids. Carter
3. Happened in the winter months in the Northwest. Cold night followed by clear day, I'm heading less than a mile from my house to feed my girlfriends cat and bend through a shallow S- curve going about 20 mph. A 30' evergreen is shadowing the roadway like a steep triangle. Where I pass through the shadow is only 3 feet wide. My front tire passes through, leaning ever so slightly to the left. Down I go instantly, like some one yanking on the road in those old RF900 commercials or the Road Runner cartoons. Black ice! The bike only slides about 5 feet, but the swiftness of the impact was great enough pop a Costco size grape hole in my stator cover.
A neighbor is tending to his yard while watching me in sort of a panic, pick up the bike quickly and immediately start thumbing the starter button. He pipes up "I wouldn't do that if I were you" I said "Why?" " You have no oil in your engine " At that moment I hadn't even noticed. So there I am standing next to my bike in front of this guys yard with a giant puddle of very black engine oil pooling right in front of his driveway. He's not pleased but offered rags and a garbage can to swipe up the mess.
My fourth and a half crash was especially humiliating. It wasn't really a crash, but a tip over. This time I had my girlfriend at the time on the back. We were waiting for the car in front to turn right at a red light. The car creeps forward, I'm assuming its moving and glance left to see if its clear for me, it is. I let out the clutch and start moving forward, as I glance back in the direction I'm going. Well, the car that was creeping moments ago is still there being pressed firmly by my front wheel. My girlfriend and I tip over immediately, going Omph. Slick move Carter.
The fifth crash happened when I had a revoked license for too many upaid traffic violations from stupid highschool antics. Needless, to say while working at Mt. Baker a friend needs his motorcycle brought down to Bellingham from the mountain. I get directions to his house and jump at the chance to ride. It's illegal. but I don't care. I wont get caught.
I get to town, I can't or don't want to find his house. I end up having the bike for two weeks. Its a 79 CX-500 I think. I ride it back and fourth to the mountain for awhile (126 miles roundtrip) as this guy is out of town and I couldn't find his house.
My roommate begs me to give him a ride to the University. I flat out said no. I'm not even supposed to be riding alone or at all, I say. We argue, he insists I give him a ride, it imperative he makes it to the Psychology Lab. I reluctantly agree.
We leave the house, not a mile from home, we head up the hill where there is a y going to the left if you heading downhill. A place where the car is suppose to yeild. The truck coming down doesn't yeild, bam, head on into a truck. I go flying over the hood while tagging the front of it on the way and land on the edge of the road. I'm sore and cut up, but I can walk. My roommate is lying in a slump groaning in pain.
All the while the truck driver is driving back and forth over the bike mangling it underneath. He finally stops and backs up. The bike is totaled. The engine may be salvagable but thats it.
My roomate breaks his ankle and hip. Courts and lawyers insue. My roommates lawyer threatens to sue me. My friend disagrees, My lawyer through some loophole, gets my license reinstated and manages to allow me to pay off my numerous traffic violations and get legally back on the road with some cash in my pocket. Strange country we live in. Ends up the driver was born in 1917. He thought I was supposed to yeild.
The last one happened September 20, 1988. I justed purchased a Red 1980 GS 1100ET with a Russ Collins chrome header 14k on the clock for $1450 three weeks prior. A new girlfriend and I are heading to Mt. Baker on Highway 542. We're doing about 68mph in 55 zone. I had worked at the ski area for four years, so had been up and down the road at least 400 times. I'd say I knew the road well, like every turn by heart.
We're passing by the side of the Nooksack river with a gentle bend leading on to a long straight away. No side roads or houses, just a couple of overgrown dirtroads down to the river. Its about 2:30 in the afternoon sun fairly high in the sky behind us which is west. I see a white truck up ahead heading in the opposite direction, going abnormally slow in a 55 zone. I think to myself, thats odd there are no roads around here, what is he doing?
Just as you pass by a car on a two lane highway or so it seems, this guy starts crossing into my lane. Not fast by any means, but extremely slow, like he's totally confused. I think what the F__K are you doing. He stops on the diagonal, completely blocking my lane. His rear bumper is even hanging over the centerline still. What to do, quick, real quick. I begin to apply heavy front brake while simultaneously rear braking. The bed of the truck is approaching too fast. Next thought. Go off the road in the other lane. NO! Big trees on the other side of the ditch. Off the front brake, fish tail around on the rear. Big skid, bike starts to swap violently too the left. Let off on the rear momentarily, must stay on the road, body steer to the right, rear brake. Bike starts swapping to left again lean right to stay on the road. BAM! The front of the cam cover contacts the rear wrapped edge of truck bumper at a 15-20 degree lean angle. My right leg gets ripped back and contacts my girlfriends leg. Both tires tuck and my hands are still on the bars. The right bar hits first and the brake lever pinches back and breaks part of my hand. We seperate from the bike. My head never hits the pavement. I'm spinning around counter clockwise in sort of a sitting position. I'm grasping my right thigh behind my knee as I slow to a stop.
My bike is still sliding right down the middle of the road about a 100 feet from where I rest. The sole of my foot is laying on its side, but I'm sitting upright. There's a huge white gash across my kneecap. Where is my girlfriend? She's back behind me on the shoulder on the whiteline in the opposite lane. She's conscious, but in total shock, shaking uncontrollably.
An old couple is first on the scene, they ask the somewhat silly question, are you alright? Well no not really. Can I get you anything? Hows my girlfriend? Shes hurt but ok. Actually in my Galindo tailpack in the side pouch is a can of Copenhagen, can you get that for me? Ok she says while her husband presses a nice pink blouse against my wound until the paramedics show up.
When the paramedics show up I know one them. He asks me, should we take you to St. Lukes? I say no I still owe them from the last wreck. Do I owe you any money for pool? No you paid me off the paramedic says. This guy was a pool shark and slaughtered me numerous times in the past.
I end up breaking my ankle and my leg in five places below the knee along with part of my patella. My girlfriend, now my wife, chipped her femur and has a permanent gash across her knee. We both still ride, her on her own bike, not very often as we have two kids. Carter
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