How did you crash?

[dantama]

Bump so we can hear about new members crashes. :)

Wow!
I've never crashed Baggins the Nomad, but that's because I learned my lesson by crashing everything else I ever rode, from my first tricycle onward.

By the time I bought a Nomad, it was all out of my system.

Oh, yeah. This guy did crash into me. Scratched my bag all up. We were pulling onto 99 from 33, and inching forward into traffic. On about the third inching move, he just smacked us.


Gave me phoney info too. The cops in Redbluff didn't give a sh!t. My wife was about ready to croak from heat and exhaustion, so I just sucked it up and moved on.

Here's how the prig hit us.

I got 6 photos of the car & bike & my batteries croaked when I tried to get his photo. Crap! Always photo the perp first. 20 something, blond buzz cut, slacker type, tattooed semi-sleeves, gold ear ring. Anybody up there see's him, smack him around for me, hey?

[blowndodge]

I want to hear Nico's crash story again too!

I don't talk to invisible users.

[cactusjack]

Back in 1978, I was stationed at MCAS El Toro, in Orange County, CA. I had an old sporty I bought off a guy who had orders to ship out to Okinawa and he needed to unload the bike. I gave him something like $300 bucks for it because it wouldn't run. A $50 new battery and spark plugs was all it needed.

One Sunday around dusk, I was riding up Trabuco Canyon Rd, although I don't know what it looks like today, back then it was a little two-lane, and very twisty from what I remember. I was on a straight patch of road, doing maybe 30-35 and this car came around a corner towards me, and the driver swung the turn wide. and crossed over into my lane, I had no place to go, so I took the shoulder, which turned out to be very loose gravel. The front tire dug in and I got pitched off the bike. Just like a cat, landed on all fours. The jerk in the car just kept going. My clutch lever got really bent and was barely working, and the tank got scraped a little. I had a helmet on, and my hands and knees were torn up pretty badly. I ended up with an infection in one of my knees a few days later and had to go to sickbay to have the corpsman pick gravel out of it. It could have been much worse, I walked away with only minor damage to the bike and minor injuries. That's the only real crash I've had.

[dantama]

Caddman, the picture of the license plate wasn't enough?

I'm going back to my very first crash ever here, because it has the best story of any of them, and it happened the very first time I rode the very first bike that I actually bought and owned. I was almost 16 years old, and I remember when I brought it home that the first comment out of my mother's mouth was, "You're gonna break your leg on that g0ddam thing!" Being 16, I knew she was FOS, and I'd therefore be fine.

It was a 1959 Lambretta 150cc. It was Itallian. It didn't run. I got it for $50 with a "parts bike" that also did not run. I drug it home and looked at it dispiritedly. The owner said that it "would run" and the "engine was fine" he just "couldn't get it started". How long would this take me to figure out? I'd never even see a picture of one of these things before. As it turned out, not that long.

The previous owner had screwed up the magneto wiring in some ham-handed attempt to do God only knows what. Or maybe someone hated him and just cut his wires and he was colorblind enough to miss the fact that you don't tape the green wire to the red wire, and then tape the yellow wire to the blue wire, etc. An hour with a soldering iron and some tape and the little scooter was running. WooHoo!

I hadn't checked the tires or the lights or the gas or tightened a single bolt, it wasn't registered, licensed, or insured, (and my dad absolutely forbade me to ride it until it was) but IT ACTUALLY RAN!!! My parents were both at work. I had to take a test ride immediately. Just around the block. What could happen? It was cold so I donned a ski hat, sunglasses, denim jacket, and my official sidewalk commando footwear: Sears engineer boots. I prodded the kicker a couple times and I was off.

We lived on a road that was basically a loop on the side of a hill, at Hill Field, outside Ogden Utah. Our house was at the very bottom of that loop. Total distance? About 1/2 mile. The engine ran fine, and it took about 1 minute to get to the top of the loop at a rather sedate speed. I may have gotten up to 30 MPH at some point. Probably less. I considered extending my test ride considerably, but in that first minute, it had started to rain. Not hard, but just enough to wet the surface of the street. I continued around the loop, headed home. I was on the down-hill side, and the heavy little Lambretta picked up speed smartly. At nearly the bottom of the hill there was a stop sign where I'd have to make a right turn, then go down about 3 more houses to our nice, dry carport while the rain erased the evidence of my forbidden adventure. Suddenly everything went wrong at once.

Approaching the sign I slowed the engine and started to brake early. I'd driven on snow and ice and I knew about traction in the wet. I would be cautious. I stepped gingerly on the foot pedal and nothing happened. In that second my caution time ran out and I was in need of brakes NOW. I pulled the front brake lever, but the cable was rusted solid and the lever never budged. Time to panic. I smashed my boot down hard on the pedal, and it went all the way to the floorboard, locking the rear wheel. The bike slewed, and I released the pedal. The rear brake seemed to have two positions: locked or unlocked. I gave up on brakes and decided I had no choice but to run the stop sign. Fortunately there was no traffic in sight.

I'd slowed considerably, to maybe 12 mph or so, but I knew I'd have to lean hard to get around the sharp corner at that speed. It worked! I was sailing right through, heeled over and cutting a line to be proud of, and my house was in sight. I reached the point of diminishing returns quickly, however, when I leaned the floorboard into asphalt and levered the bikes tiny wheels right off the pavement.

I slid across both lanes, my wheels impacted the opposite curb, and the Lambretta flung me off the highside, directly into a tree. I hit the tree with my right leg, mid calf, and then I hit the ground with the wind knocked out of me. The first thin I noticed when I gained my senses was that I wasn't dead, but my right leg hurt like hell. Aaaaarrrrgh! A teenager's worst nightmare: my mother had been right! I'd certainly broken my leg on "that g0ddam thing!" and to top it off, this broken leg business hurt worse than I'd ever imagined.

I laid there motionless for a good 5 minutes praying silently. Not a car nor another human being passed by. It was like one of those Twilight Zone shows where I was the last human on earth and destined to die from a minor injury because there was nobodly left to assist me. "Please God..." I thought, "I do not have a broken leg. Please. Not that. PleasePleasepleaseplease....."

After it quit hurting so bad, I drug myself upright and could still hobble over to the bike. The front wheel was really bent, but by some miracle the tire still held air. I couldn't have kicked the starter with my mangled leg, so I just stood the bike up, hopped on side-saddle, and coasted it down the hill and into our carport. I shoved it out of the way where my parents wouldn't notice the bent wheel and broken headlight, and crawled into bed for three days. I told my mom I had the flu.

As it turned out, my broken leg was just a nasty bone bruise, and after about a week I could walk normally without pain. For a couple days there, walking normally in front of my parents involved considerable pain, but I just sucked it up while silently conniving a way to fix up the bike before my mom saw the damage and busted me. Somehow I managed that, and to this day have never told her what actually happened. She's 78 now, and I don't suppose the shock would be good for her, so I'm going to continue to hold my peace.

Caddman, the picture of the license plate wasn't enough?

As I said, the local cops didn't give a $hit. I was from out-of-town, he was from out-of-town. It was a Sunday and it was 105⁰F in the shade. They didn't even want to take a statement. The CHP weren't any help either. The perp had lapsed insurance and out-of-state plates, but that didn't interest them either.

Here's the real problem though: In Fresno, the cops do not respond to fender benders unless someone is injured, traffic is blocked, or public property is destroyed. You call them, and they tell you to just come in and fill out a form. They won't bother to come to the scene at all.

The cops in Redbluff claimed that since I didn't call them "from the scene" I was basically SOL. (They evidently respond to every mosquito bite.)

Fortunately the damage was limited to paint scratches that mostly buffed out.

[dantama]

Too bad with the cops not willing to help. I don't know what's worse, the feeling of helplessness when the cops wouldn't help, or the feeling of getting screwed when the offending car got away with it.

As far as your other story, I was visualizing it in my mind as I read, and thought, good when he hits the curb he'll probably get tossed onto somebodies front lawn, then I got to the tree part.

I've had many broken bones, and know all about them, I also know that bruised ribs can hurt just as bad as broken ones it seems. I was feeling for you having to try and hide that :(

[MarkG]

Not responding to a non-injury accident is pretty common. Exchange information and be on your way. Unless it is blocking traffic, the people are getting in a fight, or something else is damaged they don't have time. Usually you don't even fill out a form here.

[dantama]

Not responding to a non-injury accident is pretty common. Exchange information and be on your way. Unless it is blocking traffic, the people are getting in a fight, or something else is damaged they don't have time. Usually you don't even fill out a form here.

If you got some bogus information, I would hope that they would get involved.

It's not like that in Colorado. When I had a get off up a dirt road, I had to wait in the dirt with a broken Clavicle for 45 min for a state trooper to come give me a ticket. No other cars involved, up a dirt road in the mountains.

I reported the bogus info, along with the photos to the local cops & CHP. Never heard another word about it. I suspect this guy has since left the state or got caught, since he had Washington plates & was overdue to re-register in California as well.

[macmac]

Ouch! been there twice.

First May 10 79 on a trident, and got hit at a intersection blocked by houses, so i couldn't see what was coming. My error, in thinking people will stop for stop signs. The driver was tanked... I got mashed, and dam near sucked my last breath.

broken neck, 8 broken ribs,clavical too, and no more spleen. Surgery was real fun with a collapsed lung, and nothing for pain.

That put the hebbiegeebies in my style big time. I got really good at low speed manuvers and stopping a full 5 seconds with out putting a foot down.

I was in ICU 3 days and then after 9 more days signed myself out.

My first ride after that was on a near to like bike, the yammi xs 750 as a loaner.

About 3 weeks after i signed out I managed to fall down a flight of cellar stairs, and broke 5 more ribs on the other side. Right side this time. I wasn't a very happy camper.

I did real well after that until August 9th 05. I am not positive what took me down that day, but my best guess is the trailer I was towing popped off the hitch. I was in Pine Ridge, on Gooseneck Break Road. I should have taken a hint.

nasty hunk of deep loose gravel, and all I know was that Nad tossed it's rear around like a barrel racer, and slammed us down.

My evidence is the left side (high) saddle bag had a gapping hole larger than the trailer tonge, and the tonge was wedged tight between the rear fender and the saddle bag frame.

I broke 3 ribs, and bruised my right hip bone. My wife got the same bruise, and cut her elbow to the bone. We both had on lids, and we both touched them down, filling hers with sand (full face).

We left that place Sept 9th, and just continued the trip as planned.

I dropped that bike in Cal with Cadd.. That was a nasty shock, more so to my wife who was shook up, not needing that sort of excitment, as her elbow was stitched for the first days and I made her a camping pad brace, which she wore a good long time after the cut was healed.

Words of advice are if you get hurt on Pine Ridge suck it up..

Out there is no wreckers, and not much else. I got my trailer removed with a pick up truck if you could call it that. I got my wife a ride in a car if you could call it that, and I rode the bike, but I didn't really want too.

That gave me the jitters for a while too. A time after that my timing was off, and I kept running my feet over starting from lights.

One road into Yellow stone was humus, and the bike sank in deeper than the trucks. That was a nasty feeling. I pulled into Cooke City in a snow storm. I noted shivering with broken ribs was very interesting..