Ok, here's what the one has to say, lifted from wildguzzi, where I posted it first, as rumors there of my death were gathering steam!
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That would be me, Bill. Hagan.
Here's the (really, really long) story Mike Craven said in the "Bill down" thread -- http://wildguzzi.com/forum/index.php?topic=64757.0 -- would come "straight from the horse's mouth." That was kinder than he put it to me in person, but, hey, this is a family website.
The BLUF (Bottom Line Up Front) is that, as Mike said, I low-sided the Griso in a sandy patch in a curve on SR 42 in SW Virginia. I am fine ... but wish I were finer; the Griso "needs work," but it will be ready to ride again soon, too.
The details:
Kathi and I have had a great time at 6 of the 9 South'n Spine Raids ... http://www.v11lemans.com/forums/index.php?showtopic=17941 ... and the 3 we didn't enjoy were the ones we missed, mostly because of my exile to the tundra in '11 & '12. We made plans to attend this one, and were saddened later to see the conflict with Wayne's Georgia campout. Still, we thought we'd catch up with some of those folks on Sunday or again later, as we still spend quite a bit of time in Atlanta helping with my mom.
Anyway, on Thursday, 12 September, we headed out. I was on the Griso; Kathi in the Fit, as she was going to do a week with Mom, then I would relieve her the following week.
The plan was for us to ride to Grassy Creek, N.C., to stay with Guzzisti Joe & Sally Martin at their place, http://www.zydecomoon.com/. The next day, Friday the 13th, we would continue on to Tellico Plains to have a fine time at the Lodge at Tellico, http://www.lodgeattellico.com/, with the others.
What a grand ride this first day was, mostly via Virginia and West Virginia SR 259 to Virginia SR 42. Kathi would have had more fun in the MIni, but the Fit is a C-130 of small cars and can carry lots of the stuff we needed, e.g., Kathi's riding gear for the 'Raid, and my change to warmer gear when we got to Tellico Plains with the expected (and hoped for) temp drop.
We both love SR 42, and have driven or ridden it numerous times.
So, I knew about the 90˚ curve at Simmonsville, one of those classic "both city limits signs on one stick" sort of places.
Here's how a buzzard sees it: http://goo.gl/maps/6WNtW
They, vultures, and ambulance drivers (I decline to add lawyers to this list!) no doubt know it well, as I suspect high-school seniors and older drunks have been killing themselves there regularly since D. Boon (and I don't mean Dennes) first trod the Old Cumberland Gap Road.
I was riding southbound, and it was about 5 p.m. The sun was bright and low in the sky, and I was glad I had the HJC modular with the dark visor and internal dark drop-down. For the last several miles, I kept raising and lowering it as my directions of travel and the conditions (frequently) warranted at this time of day. I like the ease of that internal visor, especially the quick deployment instant retraction, as the road and scenery are grand, but deliver more changeups than Pedro Martinez in a tight game.
As I neared the spot, I descended a grade, all in the shade. To call this a curve is a misnomer. It is an intersection, i.e., one of those "turns" that is so sharp it may as well have a stop sign. The sign says "15 mph" and, unlike so many where such warnings are a joke or a notice that one can go twice that speed, this one means business -- and I knew it. So (and I'd pass a polygraph on this), I was quite likely at or even below that speed. What made me even more concerned as I approached was that, unlike the dark downhill I was on, the turn was in blinding light. The contrast was vivid. About 20 meters out from the corner, I flipped down the dark inner visor to be better prepared for the jolt when I faced the sun after negotiating the curve.
Just as I started the roll-out in the dazzling sunlight ...
FLASH!
BANG!
YIKES!
... I was on the ground, zooming along on my butt and other parts, with the motorcycle sliding ahead of me in a classic "low sider."
I had hit sand, absolutely invisible as I had approached.
Those stories about time standing still are not, as we all know, quite true, but there is an odd dimension to those moments that seem minutes. I recall the stunning surprise of the very loud thump when the Griso hit the pavement. And, I actually had a strange image of being on a luge, as I was almost face up and sliding on the right side of my back, feet first. I did not tumble or flail, but pretty much just followed the Griso. A single car was nearing in the northbound lane, but came to a stop as Griso and I started our road show.
The Griso was in the opposite lane, facing me, lying on its right side. I jumped up as soon as I came to a stop, worried about traffic behind me -- luckily, there was none -- squashing me. After making sure that all my visible parts were attached and seemed to be moving, I ran over to the Griso. The occupant of the car was still inside. I remember thinking how odd that seemed. I considered trying to bring the Griso upright by myself, but realized I had better not, especially as I was unsure how hurt I might be, tho I seemed OK. Maybe two large bubbas would ultimately emerge from that car. Nope, a lady got out. Finally. She was way more shaken than I was, too. I joked that I must have given her quite a show. She appeared as if a dead man had just spoken to her. But what a great lady she turned out to be.
She came over to help me get the Griso up on its wheels, but I said we needed more assistance. Then a pickup started to go around and "Jill" would have none of that. She stopped it and essentially ordered the driver out to help. I think he was headed to pull over and do that anyway, but Jill made sure of it. We got the Griso up; Bubba drove away. About this time, Kathi arrived. You may imagine her state when she saw what was going on. She was way more worried about me than I was. I do recall being ... erm ... animated. No doubt adrenalin. Jill then offered for us to come to her home to get settled or store the Griso, etc. No LEO arrived and we had no cell phone service. I seemed uninjured and the Griso looked rideable. We talked it over and, after thanking Jill, Kathi and I decided to go on to Blacksburg and get a room for the night. We would consider our options after a good night's sleep. We let Joe & Sally know, too, and groaned when they told us of the shrimp gumbo that we would have shared.
That ride-on plan worked for about 100 meters. I had no rear brake. Hmmmmm. Not that I use it much, but it was disconcerting to press the pedal and have it almost disappear. Ah, the brilliant minds at Mandello had decided to affix the pivot point for the brake lever on the bottom-most part of the large "pork chop." Yup, that rib broke.
Oh, well. Ride on. It is interesting how little one does use the rear brake. I think I tried once in the 20 or so miles to Blacksburg.
I am now convinced that I really don't care to crash like this, as interesting as the experience actually was. At my age, 66 -- thus the title of this thread -- all such dismounts are unpleasant. Thankfully, I wear ATGATT -- and now will ensure the "Always" is so. The helmet and armor did their work well. At risk of sounding melodramatic, the damage to my helmet makes me think this might have been an RIP event without it. Sans ATTGAT, I would still be in ICU.
As it was, I was at the motel, having a nice meal with my worried wife. I became less and less worried with each drink. Back in the room, we reassessed my physical condition. I also had the benefit of Dr. Phillip Haynes, the leader of the SSR, who helped me with all of the medical pieces, especially with his and Kathi's concerns about possible head injury. I satisfactorily answered all of his questions and we all felt better about that. I was suffering no real pain (even before the bourbon!). I had two abrasions, one the size of a nickel, the other deeper and a bit larger, as if an elongated half-dollar. I cleaned those with warm water and soap. I had a hyperextension of my left arm, much as if I had thrown a fastball pitch at 100% effort without a warm-up. My right foot was an obvious problem. In my boot, I had been able to walk without much awareness of an issue, but once off, load-bearing was, if not painful, close. But it was not swollen (much) nor discolored (much). Kathi saw elephant swelling and technicolor bruising. I saw little of that. Another indicator is that I took no pain meds. OK, OK, yes, there was the corn-based kind! Oh, and Kathi applied ice as suggested by Doc Haynes.
I can, as most of you know, whine self-servingly and otherwise make excuses for my failures, including riding errors. But, I am hard-pressed to figure out what I might have done differently to avoid this event beyond staying at home and playing cards. SR 42 had been remarkably free of road debris for 150 miles thus far, so a large patch of sand was unexpected if not even unforeseeable. I was not speeding and took the curve at a prudent rate. I transitioned abruptly from a descent in full shade to a slow turn in full sun, which was also low on the horizon, making the sand in the roadway invisible to me. Throttle maintenance alone would have brought about traction loss, much less a normal roll-out, which was what I thought appropriate and what I was executing when I found myself visiting the pavement. Had I taken the turn a few inches to the left or right, I would not even have known of the issue, but my line -- slightly inside of the center -- went into the thick of it, and that was that. Down.
The Griso? From front to back, the list I made includes, and all on the right side: Stelvio hand guard ground down; valve cover toast; "pork chop" and brake lever busted up; and the spool for maintenance stand ground away. The CARC guard worked like a champ, keeping it scratch free (and possibly the bike from being totaled).
Had some unhappy conversations with AAA; the "Premier Plus with RV" category gives you one 200-mile tow ... but, gotcha, not for motorcycles, and Winchester Motor Sports was 214 miles from Blacksburg. Travman generously and genuinely offered to drive a truck down to get it, but we finally decided I would ride the Griso back, with Kathi following and watching for parts (or me!) to fall off. We took US 11, a nice road and certainly more pleasant than I-81, almost the entire distance. Not a hitch.
Left it with WMS. I must interject here that I have been very impressed with Karl, Mike, Mark, and others at WMS. They have been courteous, solicitous, professional, and competent in the several contacts I have had with them in the past couple of months. I am happy to leave my Griso in their hands.
OK, yes, I have some pix. But, no, not of the dismount.
After several photos of the ride, the slideshow shifts abruptly to the scene of the accident and then of some showing the damage to my gear.
We are sad that we missed the SSR, but it is a great blessing to be practically unhurt after a motorcycle accident. Next year.
Yes, I am as tired of writing all of this as are the two of you who got this far reading it.
Thank you all for your support and kind words in that first thread.
The pix? Here: http://tinyurl.com/Griso-Sliding The (maddening) photobucket slideshow requires you constantly to move your curser to keep the captions displayed.
Bill
P.S. One last point. For those of you who understand medical terminology -- I don't, but looked it all up -- the X-rays revealed that I sustained a "mildly comminuted minimal corner fracture of the distal ventral tibia." Sounds awful, and does mean I had a broken foot ... but only in the most slight sense. I got a doctor's note to show Kathi that essentially says I can do anything I want, but not if it's a chore on her long "honey-do" list.
