TssTssTss
New Member
Apologies for the excessive length of this post, but here we go...
First, a little background:
Got my bike back in August 2012, Pearl White with 3 miles on the clock. I had taken the MSF course about a year prior, but otherwise had zero experience with motorcycles.
Fast forward to last Tuesday (Feb 18, 2014).
The odometer reads just shy of 24.5k miles. Beautiful day, despite the fact that I was due in court for a speeding ticket that morning. Plead not guilty after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, quickly left the East County courthouse, and was on the way to work by 10:15 AM.
Stopped for gas, and then hit SR-67 North, destined for Poway.
Totally uneventful ride through Lakeside/Santee. Extremely light traffic, sunny, cool but not cold...
Soon I was approaching the San Vicente Dam and, in typical fashion, began gearing up to have a little fun going up the hill on SR-67 NB.
Those of you local to San Diego probably are at least familiar with this route - I've taken it more times than I care to remember. It's a fun, easy set of turns. Good road surface, turns are banked just so.
Here's a map of the scene with some super-deluxe annotations made by yours truly:
Anyway, as I start up the first turn and having made sure the coast was clear, I go WOT in 5th, intending to blow off a bit of steam before getting to work.
I quickly accelerated to approx. 75 MPH, a very comfortable speed for me on this section of road.
As I round the bend, I see, much to my dismay, the unmistakable black-and-white top half of a patrol car.
Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I immediately do what I've been conditioned to - hit the brakes. Well, more like brake, as I almost never use the rear one, and I am 99% sure that I did not in this case as well.
Next thing I know, the bike is out of my control. I have a distinct recollection of suddenly going from a moderate lean angle to upright, and feeling like the handlebars violently twisted out of my grasp.
Next thing I know, I'm on the ground, and time has suddenly slowed to a crawl.
So cliche, but it was amazing how much time I had to think about what was happening.
I remember first being oriented so that I was face up and looking slightly to the north, with a brief glimpse of my bike a good distance in front of me.
Next, I was face down, and clearly remember scraping the shield of my Shoei RF-1100 on the asphalt.
It really did seem like I was sliding forever.
Having my wits about me despite all of what was happening, I immediately recalled having read on this very forum about the danger of trying to stand up before coming to a complete stop. And at about the halfway point in my slide, I actually felt like I was just about stopped, but resisted the temptation to do anything but wait for my forward motion to cease.
Which it finally did.
First thing I noticed upon sitting up in the shoulder was how much the tips of my gloved fingers hurt. A very sharp, localized pain that was unlike anything I've ever encountered.
Within seconds, the patrol car that caused my idiotic braking maneuver was on the scene. Turned out to be a deputy sheriff - I wish I knew his name so I could give him credit for being such an outstanding officer.
After blocking my location from potential oncoming traffic, he quickly jumped out of his squad car. He looked about as dumbfounded as I did, with a big "OMG WTF" grin on his face as he approached.
As one might expect, his first question was "Are you OK?"
I was panting a bit, but managed to confirm that I was OK, though I don't think he was convinced. He asked me a couple more times if I was sure I was OK, and by now, I had removed my gloves and helmet, which likely reassured him that I wasn't in terrible shape.
Looking north up the highway, I see my bike, about 150 - 200 feet away, almost dead center in the roadway. The deputy lets me know that CHP and EMT are en route, and that he is going to go get my bike out of the road. Oddly, I eagerly offer my assistance in righting the bike and moving it to the shoulder. The deputy laughs and tells me to just sit tight, which I did.
CHP arrives within 5 minutes and one of those white pickup trucks belonging to the fire department (supervisor?) arrives very shortly thereafter.
Typical CHP guy - very professional, but very emotionless. Asks me the standard questions: "Are you OK? What happened?"
The fire department official asks the same, and by now, the deputy has righted the bike, and moved it to the shoulder.
CHP asks the deputy what happened, to which he replies something like, "Not really sure! I was coming out of that driveway and I see this guy and his bike on the ground! Looked like he was going about 60 MPH on the ground!"
Not sure how much training LEOs get in estimating the speed of sliding objects, but I think he was probably pretty damn close.
CHP wants to see my registration/insurance, which I keep under the rear seat. So we all take the uphill stroll to the bike, I fetch my paperwork, and the EMTs are on the scene in no time.
EMTs were all great - as friendly as could be and not at all judgmental or condescending. They seem as flabbergasted as the rest of the others on scene that I am standing there talking to them almost as if nothing had happened. One of them pointed out the massive scrape across the right hand side of my helmet shield and I heard a couple of expletives about how lucky I was.
A cursory check of my upper body reveals nothing of concern, after which my BP and pulse were taken (130/?? pulse ~80). Then a couple of questions to evaluate my coherence, which actually took me a bit by surprise. The EMT receives a puzzled look to his question, "Where are you?" I quickly realize that he is checking for signs of a concussion, so I respond with "Northbound 67, on the way to work in Poway, it's somewhere between 10:00 and 10:30 AM."
More CHP units arrive, though we were clearly code 4 at this point. Must've been a slow day.
The pain in my finger tips has mostly subsided by now, and the pain was now focused in my left knee. I sure wish I hadn't procrastinated buying a pair of overpants as I looked down at my tattered jeans.
EMT suggests a trip in the ambulance, which I firmly decline. So they, the deputy, and the firefighters all leave.
A new CHP officer was asking me again to tell him what happened, and I just played it dumb. I said that I was riding up the hill at ~60 MPH and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Though it was plain as day, I didn't think that "I was riding a bit aggressively and saw a police car, which caused me to brake without thinking, thus separating me from the bike" was the best answer.
The officer seemed satisfied with this, and hands me a small slip of paper entitled "Accident Report."
At this point, the only thing left to do was determine what *I* was going to do. Did I want to try and ride away from the scene? Was that even possible? Did I need a tow? A ride?
Bike was in unbelievably good shape considering what had just transpired. The right foot peg looked like it had been pinned against its mounting bracket, and the rear brake pedal was pushed toward the engine, but not enough to touch. The Yamaha frame slider was still attached to the bike, though it now pointed skyward, and was sheared almost in half. Same with the T-Rex spool slider.
No damage at all on the left of the bike, and minor damage to the following on the right:
- Bar end barely scraped.
- Mirror barely scraped.
- Fairing scraped in a couple of spots - very minor.
- Front turn signal scraped significantly.
- Crankcase cover significantly scraped on bottom half.
- Peg scraped on bottom - the little "ball" at the end of it was now about the size and shape of a dime.
I'll add pictures later - this is turning out to be an excessively long post as it is!
So, considering the light damage, I decide to say "eff it" and try to ride off. The front brake felt a bit odd, but I think that was due to adrenaline and some residual discomfort in my hand. After making sure that the bike held with the brake applied, I press the ignition button, half expecting to hear some awful grinding sound. Yawn, the bike starts up instantly, perfectly.
The deputy had left it in neutral for me, so I turn to the three or four remaining CHP on scene, and with a "well, guys," I shift into first and am now headed towards work.
A painful, though uneventful, ride ends about 15 minutes later in the parking lot at work. The gorgeous front desk girl asks me about something, don't remember what, and next thing I know I am relaying my story to more people than I cared to at that point.
I quickly abscond work, determined not to let an accident of this "magnitude" go to waste, and am back home in Chula Vista within an hour.
Since this post has already gone on far too long, I'll finish the story here.
I do have some questions, however.
1) Front braking in a turn will typically cause a lowside crash, correct? Having never crashed, I don't know what I expected, but I thought for sure that it would've been a bit more "gradual," and that I would have felt the sensation of laying the bike down, for lack of a better expression.
Problem is, what happened with anything but "gradual." As I mentioned earlier, it was very sudden and violent.
2) If I did indeed lowside, shouldn't I have expected to have been with the bike for a period of time on the ground? It felt like the bike was almost instantly on a divergent path, well ahead of me.
3) Again, if this was a lowside, shouldn't I have sustained injury to my right half? My left knee was the worst off, my jacket was almost exclusively damaged on the left, my backpack was almost exclusively damaged on the left, my left pinky hurt and there was an impact mark beneath the shield on my helmet on the left. I can't fathom how this could be. (Pictures coming soon).
4) Am I incredibly lucky?
If you made it this far, thanks for reading my ramblings and any input/criticism/feedback would be greatly appreciated.
First, a little background:
Got my bike back in August 2012, Pearl White with 3 miles on the clock. I had taken the MSF course about a year prior, but otherwise had zero experience with motorcycles.
Fast forward to last Tuesday (Feb 18, 2014).
The odometer reads just shy of 24.5k miles. Beautiful day, despite the fact that I was due in court for a speeding ticket that morning. Plead not guilty after waiting for what seemed like an eternity, quickly left the East County courthouse, and was on the way to work by 10:15 AM.
Stopped for gas, and then hit SR-67 North, destined for Poway.
Totally uneventful ride through Lakeside/Santee. Extremely light traffic, sunny, cool but not cold...
Soon I was approaching the San Vicente Dam and, in typical fashion, began gearing up to have a little fun going up the hill on SR-67 NB.
Those of you local to San Diego probably are at least familiar with this route - I've taken it more times than I care to remember. It's a fun, easy set of turns. Good road surface, turns are banked just so.
Here's a map of the scene with some super-deluxe annotations made by yours truly:
Anyway, as I start up the first turn and having made sure the coast was clear, I go WOT in 5th, intending to blow off a bit of steam before getting to work.
I quickly accelerated to approx. 75 MPH, a very comfortable speed for me on this section of road.
As I round the bend, I see, much to my dismay, the unmistakable black-and-white top half of a patrol car.
Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I immediately do what I've been conditioned to - hit the brakes. Well, more like brake, as I almost never use the rear one, and I am 99% sure that I did not in this case as well.
Next thing I know, the bike is out of my control. I have a distinct recollection of suddenly going from a moderate lean angle to upright, and feeling like the handlebars violently twisted out of my grasp.
Next thing I know, I'm on the ground, and time has suddenly slowed to a crawl.
So cliche, but it was amazing how much time I had to think about what was happening.
I remember first being oriented so that I was face up and looking slightly to the north, with a brief glimpse of my bike a good distance in front of me.
Next, I was face down, and clearly remember scraping the shield of my Shoei RF-1100 on the asphalt.
It really did seem like I was sliding forever.
Having my wits about me despite all of what was happening, I immediately recalled having read on this very forum about the danger of trying to stand up before coming to a complete stop. And at about the halfway point in my slide, I actually felt like I was just about stopped, but resisted the temptation to do anything but wait for my forward motion to cease.
Which it finally did.
First thing I noticed upon sitting up in the shoulder was how much the tips of my gloved fingers hurt. A very sharp, localized pain that was unlike anything I've ever encountered.
Within seconds, the patrol car that caused my idiotic braking maneuver was on the scene. Turned out to be a deputy sheriff - I wish I knew his name so I could give him credit for being such an outstanding officer.
After blocking my location from potential oncoming traffic, he quickly jumped out of his squad car. He looked about as dumbfounded as I did, with a big "OMG WTF" grin on his face as he approached.
As one might expect, his first question was "Are you OK?"
I was panting a bit, but managed to confirm that I was OK, though I don't think he was convinced. He asked me a couple more times if I was sure I was OK, and by now, I had removed my gloves and helmet, which likely reassured him that I wasn't in terrible shape.
Looking north up the highway, I see my bike, about 150 - 200 feet away, almost dead center in the roadway. The deputy lets me know that CHP and EMT are en route, and that he is going to go get my bike out of the road. Oddly, I eagerly offer my assistance in righting the bike and moving it to the shoulder. The deputy laughs and tells me to just sit tight, which I did.
CHP arrives within 5 minutes and one of those white pickup trucks belonging to the fire department (supervisor?) arrives very shortly thereafter.
Typical CHP guy - very professional, but very emotionless. Asks me the standard questions: "Are you OK? What happened?"
The fire department official asks the same, and by now, the deputy has righted the bike, and moved it to the shoulder.
CHP asks the deputy what happened, to which he replies something like, "Not really sure! I was coming out of that driveway and I see this guy and his bike on the ground! Looked like he was going about 60 MPH on the ground!"
Not sure how much training LEOs get in estimating the speed of sliding objects, but I think he was probably pretty damn close.
CHP wants to see my registration/insurance, which I keep under the rear seat. So we all take the uphill stroll to the bike, I fetch my paperwork, and the EMTs are on the scene in no time.
EMTs were all great - as friendly as could be and not at all judgmental or condescending. They seem as flabbergasted as the rest of the others on scene that I am standing there talking to them almost as if nothing had happened. One of them pointed out the massive scrape across the right hand side of my helmet shield and I heard a couple of expletives about how lucky I was.
A cursory check of my upper body reveals nothing of concern, after which my BP and pulse were taken (130/?? pulse ~80). Then a couple of questions to evaluate my coherence, which actually took me a bit by surprise. The EMT receives a puzzled look to his question, "Where are you?" I quickly realize that he is checking for signs of a concussion, so I respond with "Northbound 67, on the way to work in Poway, it's somewhere between 10:00 and 10:30 AM."
More CHP units arrive, though we were clearly code 4 at this point. Must've been a slow day.
The pain in my finger tips has mostly subsided by now, and the pain was now focused in my left knee. I sure wish I hadn't procrastinated buying a pair of overpants as I looked down at my tattered jeans.
EMT suggests a trip in the ambulance, which I firmly decline. So they, the deputy, and the firefighters all leave.
A new CHP officer was asking me again to tell him what happened, and I just played it dumb. I said that I was riding up the hill at ~60 MPH and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground. Though it was plain as day, I didn't think that "I was riding a bit aggressively and saw a police car, which caused me to brake without thinking, thus separating me from the bike" was the best answer.
The officer seemed satisfied with this, and hands me a small slip of paper entitled "Accident Report."
At this point, the only thing left to do was determine what *I* was going to do. Did I want to try and ride away from the scene? Was that even possible? Did I need a tow? A ride?
Bike was in unbelievably good shape considering what had just transpired. The right foot peg looked like it had been pinned against its mounting bracket, and the rear brake pedal was pushed toward the engine, but not enough to touch. The Yamaha frame slider was still attached to the bike, though it now pointed skyward, and was sheared almost in half. Same with the T-Rex spool slider.
No damage at all on the left of the bike, and minor damage to the following on the right:
- Bar end barely scraped.
- Mirror barely scraped.
- Fairing scraped in a couple of spots - very minor.
- Front turn signal scraped significantly.
- Crankcase cover significantly scraped on bottom half.
- Peg scraped on bottom - the little "ball" at the end of it was now about the size and shape of a dime.
I'll add pictures later - this is turning out to be an excessively long post as it is!
So, considering the light damage, I decide to say "eff it" and try to ride off. The front brake felt a bit odd, but I think that was due to adrenaline and some residual discomfort in my hand. After making sure that the bike held with the brake applied, I press the ignition button, half expecting to hear some awful grinding sound. Yawn, the bike starts up instantly, perfectly.
The deputy had left it in neutral for me, so I turn to the three or four remaining CHP on scene, and with a "well, guys," I shift into first and am now headed towards work.
A painful, though uneventful, ride ends about 15 minutes later in the parking lot at work. The gorgeous front desk girl asks me about something, don't remember what, and next thing I know I am relaying my story to more people than I cared to at that point.
I quickly abscond work, determined not to let an accident of this "magnitude" go to waste, and am back home in Chula Vista within an hour.
Since this post has already gone on far too long, I'll finish the story here.
I do have some questions, however.
1) Front braking in a turn will typically cause a lowside crash, correct? Having never crashed, I don't know what I expected, but I thought for sure that it would've been a bit more "gradual," and that I would have felt the sensation of laying the bike down, for lack of a better expression.
Problem is, what happened with anything but "gradual." As I mentioned earlier, it was very sudden and violent.
2) If I did indeed lowside, shouldn't I have expected to have been with the bike for a period of time on the ground? It felt like the bike was almost instantly on a divergent path, well ahead of me.
3) Again, if this was a lowside, shouldn't I have sustained injury to my right half? My left knee was the worst off, my jacket was almost exclusively damaged on the left, my backpack was almost exclusively damaged on the left, my left pinky hurt and there was an impact mark beneath the shield on my helmet on the left. I can't fathom how this could be. (Pictures coming soon).
4) Am I incredibly lucky?
If you made it this far, thanks for reading my ramblings and any input/criticism/feedback would be greatly appreciated.
