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June 2010
Let’s talk about the unexpected.
Last month I told y’all about how much I love to go swimming. Well, yesterday I just about went swimming with my motorcycle! I got caught in a bad rainstorm. “How bad was it?” you might ask........
Well, it was sooo bad.........that I saw cars towing water skiers!
So bad.....that I had to use a backward facing snorkel while I rode to be able to breathe!
So bad.....that I passed schools of fish that were swimming in mid-air!
So bad.....that I got a watercraft ticket while hydroplaning down the freeway!
OK. Enough of that. But it DID remind me of a highway voyage that I took with an old friend named Bryan Slusher about ten years ago.
We were packed up for the weekend and were on the way to our regional party that was then called the “Bear Creek Biker Bash” just south of Canton. The bikes were loaded down with tents, sleeping bags and all the essentials. As we passed through the busiest part of Akron, the rain hit bad a mile or so before I-76 west meets I-77 south. In other words, a major rainstorm hit us head on while we negotiated a busy five or six lane stretch of downtown interstate during rush hour in a major city, on a Friday !
It WAS so bad that I couldn’t even read my speedometer and I was even having a hard time keeping things vertical. Traffic front and back of me was so blurred from the pounding rain that I couldn’t even see it. I kept thinking, ‘If I’m not going fast enough I might get rear-ended by a semi-truck. If I go TOO fast, I’m gonna smash into somebody’s rear bumper.’ I couldn’t even tell what lane I was in.
Bryan backed off and disappeared into the blur as I managed to make out an exit and decided to get out of that insanity. Thankfully he noticed my turn signal, and we both successfully got off the interstate and into a warm and dry donut shop.
After a hot cup of coffee the rain seemed to let up a bit, so we re-mounted and hit the road.
As soon as we got back on the interstate, it started all over again. When we made the connection to I-77 south we immediately spied an underpass right after the entrance ramp and pulled over to wait it out. The next thing we knew, cars started stopping there too. And before long a whole bunch of cars were stopping. We put down our kickstands and got as far away from the road as we could, climbing up the graveled grade to sit just below the overpass in case a big old 18 wheeler slammed into everybody.
The thing that got me, is these CARS had roofs and windows! They could easily have stopped any place, but I guess they saw us and decided to do the same thing and stop there, which of course started to form a bottleneck. And as I sat there watching, I noticed that my 700-plus pound, loaded down Harley actually moved a bit sideways on the kickstand from all the water rapidly rushing under it.
As soon as the storm slowed down the least little bit, me and Bryan scrambled down and got the hell outta there, continuing on our way before something really bad happened. About an hour and a half later, we arrived at Bear Creek (normally a 30 minute ride south of where we stopped in Akron) just before a hail storm with stones the size of golf balls hit THERE. Thank God we didn’t get caught in THAT while on the road!
Obviously I DO sometimes tend to exaggerate a bit in my story-telling for the sake of the stories (duh!), but the above is all absolutely true word for word. I didn’t read a paper for a few days because I was at the event, so I didn’t hear anything about a semi-truck smashing into cars backed-up under an overpass. But I wouldn’t have been surprised.
Now, the point of all this is that ya just never know when road condition, weather and traffic can put YOU in a similar situation. There’s no planning for something like this. The simple fact that we ride on two wheels makes us particularly vulnerable to influences that we have no control over.
It might annoy you to hit a pot hole with your car, but it can turn your world upside down on a bike. A little bit of gravel on a corner might not even be noticeable to a car, but a bike could slide and lay down. When a dog chases your car, you laugh. But I’ve had my pants ripped a few times by dogs, and once even lost a boot-heel to a snarling mutt.
Did you ever notice that even on a warm day, a fine rain can hit ya like tiny, sharp needles? Other times the drops might feel like a constant barrage of little exploding water balloons. Have you ridden in thick fog yet? Unless you’re a very fair-weather rider and/or you’ve never spent the night away from home on your bike, you will.....or at least ya might.
About 35 years ago I took a road trip out west on an old beat up BSA 750. Back then, if ya wanted to pitch a tent and bed down at a road-side rest, you could, without any hassle from the police. I did that a few times. Once, in Kansas, I woke early, packed up and hit the road only to soon find myself going 55 MPH into a huge bank of fog so thick I literally couldn’t see in front of my face. Of course I rapidly slowed and pulled over, which THEN left me on the side of an interstate with semi-trucks and cars zooming close by.
I very slowly rode across the grass to where I knew the interstate’s fence should be and dismounted. From there I was barely able to see through the fog as a big-rig plowed into a little car that had slowed to a crawl right where I had originally stopped. I remember it was a Chevy Vega because I worked in the only GM plant that made them. I also remember that I didn’t even hear the sound of the truck coming before the collision due to the fog. That day I witnessed a family of four suffer multiple major injuries and a death.
After the ambulances and fire trucks left, the truck driver was in tears over something he really couldn’t have avoided. I mean, he was only traveling about 30 or 40 miles an hour when he hit that car. But his front end was just high enough, compared to the little car, well, you get the picture. I gave my complete statement as a witness to the cops and was allowed to leave, which I did as soon as the fog lifted a bit. Don’t know what happened to any of them after that, but it sure gave me a healthy respect for semi-trucks....and fog.
Probably like most of you, I have a few fog stories, a few semi-truck stories and a few other bad hazard stories. But for now, particularly for those of you who haven’t had that much experience yet, let me just say that when riding, ya just never know what the hell can happen. And in some cases the only preparation you can possibly have IS experience, which ya don’t get until it happens to you. When most of us start riding, we’re so enthused about the riding part that we often discount the danger. But we learn not to. At least those of us who survive and keep riding do.
Eventually most of us have to stop riding due to age. Sooner or later it gets to the point that the eyes and the legs, and to be honest, the steadiness and the nerve might not handle the unexpected things like they used to. If it wasn’t for the unexpected, some of us would probably never stop riding. My uncle rode until his mid 80’s and I’m hoping to do the same. I just hope that when I do start to feel uneasy about things I stop for my wife’s sake, if nothing else. I know I sure as hell wouldn’t wanna climb on the back of a bike piloted by some shaky, rickety old geezer!
How often do we hear people say, “Oh, I used to ride back in yadda yadda.” or “I had a bike years ago.”? Well, bad experiences are usually what made them hang it up and quit. Those of us who keep doing it, instead learn from those experiences. And that accumulated actual riding experience is the only way to know if we CAN handle some of the unexpected things. That’s why when my own sons began riding some years ago I was so nervous about it (way more-so than they were of course).
They didn’t know how screwed up some car drivers can be. They’ve never felt the vacuum created at high speeds between the cab and the trailer of a truck they might pass, or that might pass them, on an interstate. They haven’t had their scoot’s ass-end slide out from under them on a slick, wet and rainy street. They’ve never known the damage hitting a deer, or even a dog, that can be done to a bike traveling at high speeds. Hell, I’ve had f&%$#@g bugs that almost knocked me off my sled!
So what is it that makes it all so irresistible? What calls to us and beckons us to climb on two wheels and hit the open road in spite of the dangers? Over the years I’ve been asked this question time and time again by people who don’t ride, but genuinely want to know why we do it: People I’ve worked with, some of my friends, my parents and other relatives (emergency room personnel really DO shake their heads and refer to bikers as “Organ Donors”).
Ya know, I’ve always found the English language fascinating and I pride myself for knowing a little something about words and how to string them together to be able to put my thoughts into words. What I don’t know about words or grammar, I make up. I write exactly the same way I think and speak. But I can’t seem to find the words to explain it, maybe because the answer is so complex. If I tried it would sound too simple, phony and stupid. I just know, as do all of you. I guess all anyone could say in reply can be summed up by that old cliché that IS appropriate, no matter how pompous and rude it sounds: “If ya gotta ask, you wouldn’t understand.”
Ya understand?
See y’all next month,
Bummer
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