First stack.
Bear with me.
So, as some of you know after my cry for help to move my bike today, I stacked it for the first time yesterday afternoon.
Was heading out to Waitakere to pay a bill, was on Great North Road inside a little shopping area when a kid bolted out from behind some bushes, and across the road, the car in front of me slammed on it's anchors, and ended up slightly over the line in the left lane. I also slammed on the front anchor (it wasn't until after the crash that I realised I hadn't used the rear brake) and performed an impromptu stoppie. Crushed my right hand between the brake lever/handlebar, and the left back corner of the car, front wheel bounced off the car, and the bike ended up on top of me, with both legs (dunno how that happened) trapped under the bike. Would have been going 25km/h tops.
The guy gets out of the car, and launches a tirade of abuse towards me, while i'm trapped under my bike. The guy in the car behind me gets out, tells him to shut his mouth, and lifts the bike up off of me, helps me up, and pushes the bike onto the footpath.
I stand there for a while, dazed and confused, take off my hemlet and gloves, and start exchanging information with the guy. Someone else walks out from one of the surrounding shops, and offers to call an Ambo, I declined it, and said I was just a bit shaken. Guy leaves, and I notice my right hand start to shake considerably more than the other one, and it had already started swelling. Head back to the shop to ask if I can borrow the phone to ring the missus, but he had shut up shop, and gapped it for the day.
Head up to the shop next door, and ask to borrow the phone, I go to dial, but completely forget my home number (we only had the phone installed a few weeks ago, and I struggle to forget the old one, and remember the new one. I ask if there is an A&E close by, the guy says Waitakere is not far off (I found out when I went to collect the bike that I said I didn't need an Ambo, and that i'd just walk), so he called an Ambo, while he sat me down, they arrived in about 3 minutes, loaded me into the back, and off we went. The guys at the 2nd shop were awesome, they moved my bike into the storage section of the shop, locked it up at night, off the street, ready for me to collect it.
Turns out both the Medics were bikers too, and were really cool. Loaded me up with 5mg (apparently that's nothing for someone my size) of Morphine (More-fine, More-fun, More-please?) which spaced me out, felt really dizzy, and super-sweaty, I think I ended up repeating the same things back to them over and over again, but I guess shock does some strange things to people, and they've probably seen almost everything.
Arrive at the Hospital, and get wheeled in on a chair, propped up in a corner in the hallway with a magazine to read until they are ready for me. The murse (male-nurse) that looked after me was phenomenal, he started cracking jokes at my expense, getting me to smile for the first time, whipped out a photo of a Triumph he used to own, which he sold a few years ago (I like the fact he still carries a picture of a bike in his wallet that he *used* to own). He calls my missus (who is also a nurse, and who's father is a fireman, so she was raised on a steady diet of anti-motorcycle work-stories) who bursts into hysterics, and starts crying on the phone, he said it was "only his hand", she heard "it was only his head". She arrives and bursts into tears on arrival.
Calm her down, while she tells me I'll never get on a bike again (I didn't tell her I was seriously looking at a bike as I knew she wouldn't approve, it was more a case of "Look what I bought", rather than "I'm thinking of getting a motorbike"). I told her that life, and everything in it is a calculated risk, and that every time I gear up (subsequently, I had bought an awesome jacket and pants combo from Quasi two days before, of which I was wearing everything - Cheers Quasi, it worked a charm!) and go for a ride, we balance the enjoyment we get from riding, to the risk of injury, or worse, and that living life without a passion just isn't worth it. It certainly doesn't mean you do stupid things without fear of reprisal, and that you take all necessary steps to avoid injury, but there is always an element of risk in anything we do.
She just punched me in the (other) arm. Hmmm, have 6-8 weeks to convince her.
Had X-Rays taken, fractured (possibly broke) two Meta carpels in my right (dominant) hand. Will see a specialist next week, cast is on for 6 to 8 weeks.
Lessons learned:
-I was following too close.
-While I was searching the road ahead for hazards, I did neglect what was happening in front of my nose.
-I need to start using my rear brake more in day to day riding so that I remember that it is there.
-Need more practice on emergency braking so that it becomes ingrained into me.
-Don't be too macho to accept help from other people, they may just know what is best for you.
-Don't ever crash in summer, the next 6 to 8 are gonna be hard staring out the window.
-Putting on socks with one hand is an art form.
-Poo before you shower, it's hard to wipe with one hand.
Cheers a metric butt-load to Patch for ditching work at midday, loading my bike up, and dropping it off at home. For someone that i've never met, to give me such a big hand, hopefully karma will repay you severalfold. I know i'm gonna help out next time someone else asks.
Bike is fine, few scratches to the fairings, nothing cracked, gear lever snapped off, and smashed one indicator.
It took me about two hours (and one course of pain meds) to one finger type this.
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Originally Posted by John Banks
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