B
bradleymaynar
Guest
Okay, I feel that I need to explain my accident to all.
My day started off with a decent ride on back roads to Steve's (Planecrazy's) house on a nice Sunday morning. I arrived about thirty minutes late, because of the back roads (actually numbered highways, state and US), but I arrived none the less. We started working on changing over Steve's 1100 to a full dress. He had brand new saddle bags, and a fairly mint vetter fairing waiting to be put on. Myself, I only needed to tweek the carbs and cam tensioner.
So, after taking off his headlight, and starting on his rear signals, we ran into a few problems in removing the signals. We decided it was a good time to stop for breakfast. After eating some great eggs and enjoying some conversation with Jules, we headed out for Harbour Freight to exchange some tools and buy some new tools. We got back to his home and started back on his 1100, only to pause for a short time on my 750. Which was really more in need of a tune up, but we looked at it anyway. After deciding that we couldn't do a whole heck of a lot to it (I was running on a limited spousal schedule that day) we went back to his 1100.
After 30 minutes, or so, I stated that I really had to get going home. After saying our goodbyes, I pulled out of Steve's drive and headed for the nearest gas station. After filling up, I began to retrace my route back towards home. It was around 1 pm, and it was about 80 degrees out. I was warm with my leather on, but was comfortable as I navigated from stoplight to stoplight. I must have gone through about 80 of those lights, but was enjoying myself. The traffic was heavy, so I really was not getting into any hurry. I only wished that I would've hopped on the interstate when I would sit at a light.
I had finally made it off of a busy highway and was travelling at a good pace back towards my house. I was just outside of a small town and decided that I'd try and make a shortcut around the town. I didn't save any time, but enjoyed the brief interlude onto the country roads. I eventually made it back to my morning route.
What I liked about the route I had taken that day was that it had a nice long straight stretch to it. I got on this road on the return trip and decided to open the 750 up. I cruised at around 85 for a few miles, just enjoying the openness of the road. When I reached the end of it I had a series of right and left turns until I was on the "home stretch," about 20 minutes from my house. I was travelling west and approaching a decent "s" turn at around 65 mph. I remembered that the pavement was broken up at the first turn, which was posted 35. So, I slowed down to around 40. After passing the rough patch of pavement, I started to get back onto the throttle. Approximately 1/2 mile from that rough patch, was an intersection, the cross traffic having to stop for my road. There were 3 or 4 cars waiting to cross at that intersection. One car safely made it across the intersection, but there really wasn't any time for more cars to move until I had passed.
However, as I approached, doing around 50 to 60 mph, the next car began to move forward. Initially, I slowed down, fully expecting the car to pull out in front of me. Had it done so, I could have safely slowed down and avoided an accident. Unfortunately, he stopped. I began to pick up speed again, keeping my eye on the car. I was within 200 to 300 feet of the intersection, and he pulled out. By this time my only reaction was to stop. I can remember looking at his front driver's side wheel, not too many thoughts going through my head except "Stop!" I locked up the rear wheel and the bike began to slide sideways, but it was too late. I watched my front wheel connect with his front fender. I seem to remember flying through the air, but I can't be sure. My next recollection is of a paramedic over me. Even my trip to the ambulance and the hospital are a bit hazy. Within 3 hours of the accident I was at home, the effects of morphine wearing off, and the pain of the collision coming to fruition.
So, just over a week later, with the pain lingering, but just a faint memory of its former self, I find myself wishing I still had a bike to ride. And hoping that I can get another before summer's end. I was proud to wear a T shirt my son had gotten me for my birthday this year when I met with the insurance agent last week. It simply states under the picture of an Indian motorcycle; "A man and his bike is a beautiful thing!"
Brad tt
My day started off with a decent ride on back roads to Steve's (Planecrazy's) house on a nice Sunday morning. I arrived about thirty minutes late, because of the back roads (actually numbered highways, state and US), but I arrived none the less. We started working on changing over Steve's 1100 to a full dress. He had brand new saddle bags, and a fairly mint vetter fairing waiting to be put on. Myself, I only needed to tweek the carbs and cam tensioner.
So, after taking off his headlight, and starting on his rear signals, we ran into a few problems in removing the signals. We decided it was a good time to stop for breakfast. After eating some great eggs and enjoying some conversation with Jules, we headed out for Harbour Freight to exchange some tools and buy some new tools. We got back to his home and started back on his 1100, only to pause for a short time on my 750. Which was really more in need of a tune up, but we looked at it anyway. After deciding that we couldn't do a whole heck of a lot to it (I was running on a limited spousal schedule that day) we went back to his 1100.
After 30 minutes, or so, I stated that I really had to get going home. After saying our goodbyes, I pulled out of Steve's drive and headed for the nearest gas station. After filling up, I began to retrace my route back towards home. It was around 1 pm, and it was about 80 degrees out. I was warm with my leather on, but was comfortable as I navigated from stoplight to stoplight. I must have gone through about 80 of those lights, but was enjoying myself. The traffic was heavy, so I really was not getting into any hurry. I only wished that I would've hopped on the interstate when I would sit at a light.
I had finally made it off of a busy highway and was travelling at a good pace back towards my house. I was just outside of a small town and decided that I'd try and make a shortcut around the town. I didn't save any time, but enjoyed the brief interlude onto the country roads. I eventually made it back to my morning route.
What I liked about the route I had taken that day was that it had a nice long straight stretch to it. I got on this road on the return trip and decided to open the 750 up. I cruised at around 85 for a few miles, just enjoying the openness of the road. When I reached the end of it I had a series of right and left turns until I was on the "home stretch," about 20 minutes from my house. I was travelling west and approaching a decent "s" turn at around 65 mph. I remembered that the pavement was broken up at the first turn, which was posted 35. So, I slowed down to around 40. After passing the rough patch of pavement, I started to get back onto the throttle. Approximately 1/2 mile from that rough patch, was an intersection, the cross traffic having to stop for my road. There were 3 or 4 cars waiting to cross at that intersection. One car safely made it across the intersection, but there really wasn't any time for more cars to move until I had passed.
However, as I approached, doing around 50 to 60 mph, the next car began to move forward. Initially, I slowed down, fully expecting the car to pull out in front of me. Had it done so, I could have safely slowed down and avoided an accident. Unfortunately, he stopped. I began to pick up speed again, keeping my eye on the car. I was within 200 to 300 feet of the intersection, and he pulled out. By this time my only reaction was to stop. I can remember looking at his front driver's side wheel, not too many thoughts going through my head except "Stop!" I locked up the rear wheel and the bike began to slide sideways, but it was too late. I watched my front wheel connect with his front fender. I seem to remember flying through the air, but I can't be sure. My next recollection is of a paramedic over me. Even my trip to the ambulance and the hospital are a bit hazy. Within 3 hours of the accident I was at home, the effects of morphine wearing off, and the pain of the collision coming to fruition.
So, just over a week later, with the pain lingering, but just a faint memory of its former self, I find myself wishing I still had a bike to ride. And hoping that I can get another before summer's end. I was proud to wear a T shirt my son had gotten me for my birthday this year when I met with the insurance agent last week. It simply states under the picture of an Indian motorcycle; "A man and his bike is a beautiful thing!"
Brad tt
