I Gasped for air as if it were my last breath? Immediately my mind raced and I started to panic as I thought I was going to die. I fought for air for several minutes in what seemed like hours. I was in a panic. Stunned and going into shock I just had been power slammed by My '85 Harley Davidson motorcycle,
I opened My eyes and started to roll over but felt excruciating pain from where the motorcycles exhast had burned me accross my lower back.
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| The only photo I had was of the video when I brought it home 7/93 |
I had just returned from my second trip of Sturgis having ridden the thousand miles there without stopping for what would be the first of many. But now I was on the steps of Deaths door,
How did I end up here?
I had been working the third shift at Chrysler on the rail docks, driving a 8000 lb. Fork truck unloading Rail Road "Box Cars" and virtually was skipping out a bit after lunch and several hours early for this nights joy ride home.
It was a warm night and I hadn't worn my leathers , I was still getting use to the bike and was doing some serious leaning on the twist and turns. The narrow paved county road was a bit rough in spots. I had been pushing higher speeds while learning to get a better feeling of the way the bike handled.
While speeding into a backwards S turn I met up with what I wanted to call a OJ Simpson Ford Bronco. A look alike which was straddling the center of the road. I quickly leaned it over onto its right side and then had to overly compensate to keep it on the road leaning back to its left side.
I can still remember those moments. Pea gravel scrapping the floor boards sparking. Before going air born. Like a idiot not knowing any better I held on.
What happened next I still can't quite figure out. It was like a case of suspended animation. I would have had to have gone over the handle bars. I felt the helmet twisting and forced my head to turn before the bike Power slammed me into the dirt. The exhaust burnt into my back before lifting off. I was unable to breathe as I turned and watch my motorcycle bouncing wildly before getting the front wheel and front forks hung up in a barbwire fence. Locked in with full throttle the bike continued to bounce its rear wheel up and down digging into the dirt a little deeper with each time the tire hit until finally coming to rest sitting up straight. The bikes rear section of frame resting on the ground. and the bike now idling.
Nothing hits home as much as when you have a near death experience. or the opportunity of meeting your maker and knowing it.Being dazed and confused is not only a temporary mind set but can be more permanent as it carried over after the accident.
I kept trying to pull in air and was unable to walk. I began to craw and dragged myself closer to the front steps of the house who's front yard I had torn up and landed in.
When I finally managed to catch My breath, I begin to think " I can't call for an Ambulance" I can't tell anyone at work about this or the actual time it happened. If word got back to any of my supervisors I would be terminated.
I was fortunate to not have any visible broken bones but had a herniated disk in my lower back. There was also the issue of 2nd and 3rd degree burns on my back from the exhaust that kept reminding me from laying too comfortably on my back.
Once I had called my buddy Mike Bertolini. He had gone down and picked up the motorcycle with his enclosed trailer. He brought it home to me and unloaded it without charging me anything.
I was still hurting so bad I couldn’t even get up to go see it or much less to help him with being able to unload it.
For the next several weeks I was in limbo uncertain as to what to do. My mind flashed back to remembering Skip and how badly he had looked the day I went to see what would later become my first Harley. It seemed like so long ago they were different times. I was mirroring the fact that this was my accident
Over the course of the next several weeks, I was looking forward to being able to lie down to just relax and not move, but that wouldn’t be happening.
The Rail Dock Rats from work kept calling. They wanted me to come back immediately before there were any personnel changes could happen on the dock. They offered me the opportunity to just do the checking of visual paperwork of the inventory of the rail cars without having to get up and down or drive my fork-truck.
I was dumbfounded because I didn’t know if I would have been willing to have done the same for someone else. Looking back on it now I went back to work way too early. I was in no shape to be even have been walking around much less working. They kept me active but it was also the end of an era
I had to go through a lot of soul searching then. I had too many unanswered questions and doubts that took a lot of time and consideration to mull over and just sort through.
Why had this happened to me? What was I gonna do next? What does all of this mean? What should I be doing now? Where do I go from here? Why am I alive? Why didn’t I die? What’s my purpose? What have I not done? What do I need to do? How do I move on? When will I get over this? But the one that really stuck seemed to be Why am I alive?
Besides my injury’s mentally I had a chip on my shoulder. The more I thought about it the more research I done in my own mind.
When I finally felt up to it I called my mechanic buddy Butch. I was still unsure of myself and had to have an open discussion with him. At first there was a lot of uncertainly. But Butch said something rather profound to me and in doing that sparked other thoughts. In so many words he said something to the effect that it was your choice you have to make the decision yourself. Do you quit? Take the insurance check and walk away? No one would think any less of you if you did. This is where you get off the bus, and or checkout. Many would walk away and wouldn’t put themselves back in the situation of ever riding again. That choice is yours.
My mind flashed back to a guy whom I knew at work named Rusty. Having had a Harley at one time and having given it up. Rusty spent time always thinking and reminiscing about those days and in some ways I thought of him as a “has been”. Which in my definition meant would not ride again or it would never be the same again. Rusty was someone who had gone on to and put away those freedoms and those feelings and had allowed them to become fond memories.
The risks maybe to great to continue. Something this devastating takes time to process. I can’t make that decision for you. No one would think any less. You have to make that choice on your own.
