A cautionary tale... Stepping up the Ladder of Risk
Posted: Wed Sep 09, 2009 8:43 am
I've heard tell that the first few months after passing the BRC (or learning to ride by any means) aren't the most dangerous. It is the second part of the learning curve - when a newbie begins to think they've got the hang of this motorcycling thing - that a rider can get in deep trouble, fast. This day, I sure did, in spite of stepping way, WAY up the Ladder of Risk. Somehow, by sheer luck of timing - not "Mad Skilz" - I survived. Maybe its one reason I became an MSF instructor.
First Step: Over confidence.
Second Step: Failure to be aware of road conditions/signage.
Third Step: Failure to recognize fatigue.
Fourth Step: Failure to plan an exit strategy - for the "What if?" that became "Now what?!"
"Down in West Virginia" - July 2004
This is a caution to new riders. The crash happened in my second year of riding. I'd gotten beyond the initial "still learning" caution, and began to believe that I was actually "getting the hang" of riding a motorcycle. This is perhaps the most dangerous period of learning... you THINK you've got it figured out, and you can get surprised by a situation and not be able to ride through (or around) it.
My husband and I had ridden (he on a Suzuki SV650, me on my BMW f650CS) from Baltimore, MD to Canaan Valley, WV for the 18th annual WOW Ride In. We were staying at Blackwater Falls, near Canaan Valley, the crash happened on Tuesday, at 5pm. We headed out from Canaan Resort at around 10 am that day.
At the close of a magnificent day of riding in beautiful West Virginia, I "dumped it" on an unexpectedly tight right turn. We were on the last leg of a big, lazy circuit, heading back to the lodge at Blackwater Falls. The locals call the curve "Wild Maggie," and it is apparently a common place for crashes. But usually folks crash going DOWN the hill. I wrecked going uphill. I was leading and feeling confident. Just having too much fun.
It was a long, straight, easy, grade, and I got focused on pushing my bike up the hill, forgetting to think beyond what I could see. I never saw the posted "20 mph" sign for the curve. I must have glanced at my speedometer as I whizzed past it. Next, I looked up to see one of those helpful yellow arrow signs pointing the way to the right.
I eased off the throttle a little, turned my head, and began to lean into the curve. Then, my stomach clenched as I suddenly realized that this turn was far sharper than I'd anticipated, and I was going far faster than my nerves were comfortable with. I was going to run into the other lane. (My husband got to watch helplessly as it all unfolded.)
As a relatively unseasoned rider, I then began doing what I'd learned in the BRC: "Straighten. Then brake." It might have worked. But, coming at me around the next curve, was an 18 wheeler. And he was over the centerline by two feet. The shiny metal grill looked as big as a garage door.
For an instant, I considered leaning harder, but discounted that. I didn't have the confidence to try it. And the consequences of failing would surely put me under the truck's wheels. It seemed that I had enough room to cross in front of the truck to the opposite shoulder. But the gravel covered shoulder was, well, gravel covered, with a deep ditch beyond. Beyond that, rose the side of a steep, weed and brush covered hillside. I chose that.
I chose, and headed for the gravel and weeds on the outside of the turn. I was uncertain I could stop between getting across the truck's path and the side of the hill. In retrospect, I'm ashamed to admit that in my moment of panic, I probably "laid it down" intentionally. At the time, it seemed better to follow the bike into the hillside, not the other way around.
I slid across the lane, up the hill, my bike on my right leg. I remember the WHOOOSH of the truck's wheels past me, as I slid. I have no doubt that I disappeared from the trucker's line of sight.
I came to a stop, and lay still a few seconds, waiting for the 'starriness' to disapate from my head whomp. I assessed myself: It seemed that all my parts were still attached and essentially intact. There was hot pain in my right knee, but it didn't feel severe (I've broken bones before). I could hear the sound of the truck braking, stopping. My husband's voice.
I sat up slowly, and pulled off my helmet. I hollered in response to my husband's query that I was okay. I turned and could see him on the opposite shoulder, near his bike. He already had his cell phone out. The trucker, 60 ish in a plaid shirt, was huffing uphill toward me. He turned pale when he saw me pull off my helmet. Perhaps in relief. Maybe that I was a woman.
I will NEVER ever regret spending the big bucks on BMW gear. If I had been wearing jeans, or even "cheap" leather, I'm convinced that my right kneecap would have been disintegrated from sliding 50 feet beneath the bike, and I'd be sticking to hospital sheets in Elkins or another trauma center now. Not sure my Joe Rocket gear would have done half as well.
The CE armor in my BMW Airflow 2 jacket and 'zip off' Summer pants, saved my bones from serious damage. The damage: a hole the size of a plum in the right pant knee, and a melted stripe on the left ankle. My right jacket shoulder was scuffed with road grime and there is a tiny hole on the right elbow of the jacket - the only place I have actual 'rash' - but that was from the edge of an elbow pad.
Physically, my right knee looked like an over stuffed bag of rocks within several hours, but Xrays showed nothing broken. It felt like someone very large and angry stomped on my right calf. I have a hyperextension hairline fracture in the hyphoid bone of my left hand. Probably got my thumb hooked against the handgrip as I went down.
My bike would be ready for the road before I am, I'm pretty sure. I'm just grateful I can walk without much trouble.
For all the stuff I did wrong. I did do a few things right: I was wearing full gear from toes to fingers and nose. Hubby and I had kept track of where we were in relationship to the previous town and our speed and direction, so that emergency responders could find us quickly. We'd just that morning attended a shortened version of Accident Scene Management at the WOW rally, where we'd learned the importance of tracking our location, as well as some traffic management at the scene.
Pam
PS Anyone who wants to see pictures of the curve I crashed on (and pictures of my gear - no gore), can go here, for hubby's account with pictures: http://home.comcast.net/~guitardad/WOW_Ride-in.html
First Step: Over confidence.
Second Step: Failure to be aware of road conditions/signage.
Third Step: Failure to recognize fatigue.
Fourth Step: Failure to plan an exit strategy - for the "What if?" that became "Now what?!"
"Down in West Virginia" - July 2004
This is a caution to new riders. The crash happened in my second year of riding. I'd gotten beyond the initial "still learning" caution, and began to believe that I was actually "getting the hang" of riding a motorcycle. This is perhaps the most dangerous period of learning... you THINK you've got it figured out, and you can get surprised by a situation and not be able to ride through (or around) it.
My husband and I had ridden (he on a Suzuki SV650, me on my BMW f650CS) from Baltimore, MD to Canaan Valley, WV for the 18th annual WOW Ride In. We were staying at Blackwater Falls, near Canaan Valley, the crash happened on Tuesday, at 5pm. We headed out from Canaan Resort at around 10 am that day.
At the close of a magnificent day of riding in beautiful West Virginia, I "dumped it" on an unexpectedly tight right turn. We were on the last leg of a big, lazy circuit, heading back to the lodge at Blackwater Falls. The locals call the curve "Wild Maggie," and it is apparently a common place for crashes. But usually folks crash going DOWN the hill. I wrecked going uphill. I was leading and feeling confident. Just having too much fun.
It was a long, straight, easy, grade, and I got focused on pushing my bike up the hill, forgetting to think beyond what I could see. I never saw the posted "20 mph" sign for the curve. I must have glanced at my speedometer as I whizzed past it. Next, I looked up to see one of those helpful yellow arrow signs pointing the way to the right.
I eased off the throttle a little, turned my head, and began to lean into the curve. Then, my stomach clenched as I suddenly realized that this turn was far sharper than I'd anticipated, and I was going far faster than my nerves were comfortable with. I was going to run into the other lane. (My husband got to watch helplessly as it all unfolded.)
As a relatively unseasoned rider, I then began doing what I'd learned in the BRC: "Straighten. Then brake." It might have worked. But, coming at me around the next curve, was an 18 wheeler. And he was over the centerline by two feet. The shiny metal grill looked as big as a garage door.
For an instant, I considered leaning harder, but discounted that. I didn't have the confidence to try it. And the consequences of failing would surely put me under the truck's wheels. It seemed that I had enough room to cross in front of the truck to the opposite shoulder. But the gravel covered shoulder was, well, gravel covered, with a deep ditch beyond. Beyond that, rose the side of a steep, weed and brush covered hillside. I chose that.
I chose, and headed for the gravel and weeds on the outside of the turn. I was uncertain I could stop between getting across the truck's path and the side of the hill. In retrospect, I'm ashamed to admit that in my moment of panic, I probably "laid it down" intentionally. At the time, it seemed better to follow the bike into the hillside, not the other way around.
I slid across the lane, up the hill, my bike on my right leg. I remember the WHOOOSH of the truck's wheels past me, as I slid. I have no doubt that I disappeared from the trucker's line of sight.
I came to a stop, and lay still a few seconds, waiting for the 'starriness' to disapate from my head whomp. I assessed myself: It seemed that all my parts were still attached and essentially intact. There was hot pain in my right knee, but it didn't feel severe (I've broken bones before). I could hear the sound of the truck braking, stopping. My husband's voice.
I sat up slowly, and pulled off my helmet. I hollered in response to my husband's query that I was okay. I turned and could see him on the opposite shoulder, near his bike. He already had his cell phone out. The trucker, 60 ish in a plaid shirt, was huffing uphill toward me. He turned pale when he saw me pull off my helmet. Perhaps in relief. Maybe that I was a woman.
I will NEVER ever regret spending the big bucks on BMW gear. If I had been wearing jeans, or even "cheap" leather, I'm convinced that my right kneecap would have been disintegrated from sliding 50 feet beneath the bike, and I'd be sticking to hospital sheets in Elkins or another trauma center now. Not sure my Joe Rocket gear would have done half as well.
The CE armor in my BMW Airflow 2 jacket and 'zip off' Summer pants, saved my bones from serious damage. The damage: a hole the size of a plum in the right pant knee, and a melted stripe on the left ankle. My right jacket shoulder was scuffed with road grime and there is a tiny hole on the right elbow of the jacket - the only place I have actual 'rash' - but that was from the edge of an elbow pad.
Physically, my right knee looked like an over stuffed bag of rocks within several hours, but Xrays showed nothing broken. It felt like someone very large and angry stomped on my right calf. I have a hyperextension hairline fracture in the hyphoid bone of my left hand. Probably got my thumb hooked against the handgrip as I went down.
My bike would be ready for the road before I am, I'm pretty sure. I'm just grateful I can walk without much trouble.
For all the stuff I did wrong. I did do a few things right: I was wearing full gear from toes to fingers and nose. Hubby and I had kept track of where we were in relationship to the previous town and our speed and direction, so that emergency responders could find us quickly. We'd just that morning attended a shortened version of Accident Scene Management at the WOW rally, where we'd learned the importance of tracking our location, as well as some traffic management at the scene.
Pam
PS Anyone who wants to see pictures of the curve I crashed on (and pictures of my gear - no gore), can go here, for hubby's account with pictures: http://home.comcast.net/~guitardad/WOW_Ride-in.html
