racebrooks
Junior Member
Good morning Rick, June 13, 2011
This weekend I rode my street bike, a 2006 Yamaha FZ6, up to Sierra Nevada and rode all of the great twisties that the mountain range had to offer. All the way up to 9500 ft at the Sonora Pass, 16 of us rode over 1800 miles start to finish. However..........
As my group split up, we all went our separate ways. A couple of guys went home to Seattle and others to points only known to them. I spent the Sunday night in Manteca CA before riding home Monday AM. I left about 6:30am and my plan was to shoot down the 5 to So Cal by myself and get home around noon or so. As I am about 30 miles down the 5, I realized what a great weekend that it was. I also started thinking about how there are better, more interesting roads to travel, off the beaten path. The 5 is a boring and difficult ride for 370 miles on a bike.
I shot across the 99, past the 5 to another road to Hollister to pick up the 25. A couple of friends and I had taken the 25 up to the meeting place and believe me when I tell you it was fast and fun twisty road. My ride to go home started out awesome. I didn't see more that 10 cars in the 80 miles that I rode. My only companions were the pesky little squirrels that shot back and forth across the road constantly. I ran over a few accidentally and to be honest, at the time, I felt kinda bad about it.
My handle bar mounted GPS had it all laid out for me. My map on my tank bag was detailed. As I was about 40 miles from Camp Roberts in Paso Robles, I was approaching a sharp left hander with a drop. I knew what was coming. As I was leaning left, slowing to get my entry speed just right, about 30 mph, a little squirrel shot from the left. I lifted up slightly to miss him when I saw another shoot out in front of me on the right. I grabbed a hand full of the front brake and applied the rear break .
Actually, it was less a controlled application and more of a stomping on the rear brake, locking it up. A bikers input error. A panic stop. The back tire swung right and the front tire hit the gravel. The momentum of the bike kept going forward, caught the ditch and launched me over the top of the bike. It all happened so quick and as I landed, I was about 12 inches from a country barb wire fence. I got up quickly and after a quick test, everything was still attached. My bike was not in good condition. I couldn't lift my bike.
After I collected myself and tried to get my bike upright, I tried to call 911. No service. It was about now that I realized that my ankle was killing me. I believe in AGATT. It means "all gear all the time." I had a great helmet, thick armored leather jacket, armored leather pants, carbon fiber leather padded gloves and calf high street boots. They has saved me from serious injury a few times.
I climbed, actually limped, to the top of a hill and finally got a bar. 911 wanted to know my location and I had no clue. No farms, no houses and no one on the road. In fact, during my 2 hour wait for the CHP and a tow truck, no one drove by. I realized that I could have been hanging off of the barb wire fence for a long time if things had gone differently. I remembered my GPS had a latitude and longitude feature. I hustled down the hill, uhhh no, I hobbled down the hill to get the GPS. I had to get it because the goat trail that I was on was about 60 miles long without any marking or markers. I got back up the hill and called 911 again. I gave them the coordinates and they said they would have some there soon.
CHP was there first. He was great. No report, no insurance and helped me right the bike. The fairing was spread all over the road and in the tall grass. All else looked good but it would only turn over but not start. While on its side, it must have flooded the air filter and the engine. The tow driver got the bike on his flat bed. He said he charged $180 per hour and it took him an hour and a half to get to me. It took us another hour and a half to get to a motorcycle shop on the 101 just near the Paso Robles off ramp. Yep....it cost me $530 to get towed.
When we finally got near Camp Roberts, I finally got a signal and called the shop. The guy said he was too busy to work on anything but go ahead and bring it by. I really had no other choice. The shop was literally in the middle of nowhere. We got to the shop by 12:30 and the mechanic said he had to go to lunch. I waited for him to return. . He was a great mechanic. He got it running and fixed the coolant leak in about 45 min. . He straightened out the handle bars, the front forks, and applied strategic duct tape to the remaining plastic parts and declared the bike ready to ride. He charged me only $60 at a time when I was extremely vulnerable. It was now 2:30pm. I had dumped the bike around 9:30am. I texted my wife and told her a sensor had gone bad (no lies, it was the truth, the bike has a tip over sensor that kills the motor if it is on its side but she doesn't know that) and I stopped to get it repaired. If I repair the fairing, it will cost about $900 for the correct parts... used.
Did I say that I didn't eat breakfast and had planned to eat at about 9am in Paso? So with no breakfast and no lunch yet, I stopped at a Carls Jr for a quick bite. I was so amped up, I couldn't eat but the Diet Coke went down fast. I hit the road at 3:05, road the bike all the way with only one stop in Los Alamos for gas. Even though I had 260 miles to ride, thru rush hour traffic, I made in home at 7:05. My wife, if she hears me coming, usually opens the gate on the driveway and opens the garage. Kinda like driving into the Bat Cave. She looked at me and the bike and didn't even realize that it was missing half of the plastic and the bike was held together with duct tape. As I walked into the house, she asked me why I was limping. My leg was killing me and I didn't dare take off my boot until I got home but I bravely said that I was just sore from the long ride. I used the restroom, and took off my boots and socks. But I couldn't get my leathers off without help. She pulled my pants off and noticed my swollen purple ankle. I then told her the whole story. She was relieved to see I wasn't hurt badly. She went right to the fridge, pulled out two beers, one for me and one for her, and got me some 800 mg Advil.
I worked today because I needed to get a few things done but the ankle is even bigger and more purple that it was this morning. It is not broke, I am pretty sure, and if I give it a couple days of rest, I think it will be ok. I was walking with a limp today but got around ok.
I will not admit to anyone that I crashed. Nope. I do not want to invite all kinds of questions. All I told everyone was that I twisted my ankle getting off my bike.(truth)
All in all, it was an awesome weekend and crashing really hasn't bothered or deterred me from riding again. It is just part of the journey. This story required no embellishment, no half truths or lies. In fact, I may have left out some non essential details.
Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns.
Randy
This weekend I rode my street bike, a 2006 Yamaha FZ6, up to Sierra Nevada and rode all of the great twisties that the mountain range had to offer. All the way up to 9500 ft at the Sonora Pass, 16 of us rode over 1800 miles start to finish. However..........
As my group split up, we all went our separate ways. A couple of guys went home to Seattle and others to points only known to them. I spent the Sunday night in Manteca CA before riding home Monday AM. I left about 6:30am and my plan was to shoot down the 5 to So Cal by myself and get home around noon or so. As I am about 30 miles down the 5, I realized what a great weekend that it was. I also started thinking about how there are better, more interesting roads to travel, off the beaten path. The 5 is a boring and difficult ride for 370 miles on a bike.
I shot across the 99, past the 5 to another road to Hollister to pick up the 25. A couple of friends and I had taken the 25 up to the meeting place and believe me when I tell you it was fast and fun twisty road. My ride to go home started out awesome. I didn't see more that 10 cars in the 80 miles that I rode. My only companions were the pesky little squirrels that shot back and forth across the road constantly. I ran over a few accidentally and to be honest, at the time, I felt kinda bad about it.
My handle bar mounted GPS had it all laid out for me. My map on my tank bag was detailed. As I was about 40 miles from Camp Roberts in Paso Robles, I was approaching a sharp left hander with a drop. I knew what was coming. As I was leaning left, slowing to get my entry speed just right, about 30 mph, a little squirrel shot from the left. I lifted up slightly to miss him when I saw another shoot out in front of me on the right. I grabbed a hand full of the front brake and applied the rear break .
Actually, it was less a controlled application and more of a stomping on the rear brake, locking it up. A bikers input error. A panic stop. The back tire swung right and the front tire hit the gravel. The momentum of the bike kept going forward, caught the ditch and launched me over the top of the bike. It all happened so quick and as I landed, I was about 12 inches from a country barb wire fence. I got up quickly and after a quick test, everything was still attached. My bike was not in good condition. I couldn't lift my bike.
After I collected myself and tried to get my bike upright, I tried to call 911. No service. It was about now that I realized that my ankle was killing me. I believe in AGATT. It means "all gear all the time." I had a great helmet, thick armored leather jacket, armored leather pants, carbon fiber leather padded gloves and calf high street boots. They has saved me from serious injury a few times.
I climbed, actually limped, to the top of a hill and finally got a bar. 911 wanted to know my location and I had no clue. No farms, no houses and no one on the road. In fact, during my 2 hour wait for the CHP and a tow truck, no one drove by. I realized that I could have been hanging off of the barb wire fence for a long time if things had gone differently. I remembered my GPS had a latitude and longitude feature. I hustled down the hill, uhhh no, I hobbled down the hill to get the GPS. I had to get it because the goat trail that I was on was about 60 miles long without any marking or markers. I got back up the hill and called 911 again. I gave them the coordinates and they said they would have some there soon.
CHP was there first. He was great. No report, no insurance and helped me right the bike. The fairing was spread all over the road and in the tall grass. All else looked good but it would only turn over but not start. While on its side, it must have flooded the air filter and the engine. The tow driver got the bike on his flat bed. He said he charged $180 per hour and it took him an hour and a half to get to me. It took us another hour and a half to get to a motorcycle shop on the 101 just near the Paso Robles off ramp. Yep....it cost me $530 to get towed.
When we finally got near Camp Roberts, I finally got a signal and called the shop. The guy said he was too busy to work on anything but go ahead and bring it by. I really had no other choice. The shop was literally in the middle of nowhere. We got to the shop by 12:30 and the mechanic said he had to go to lunch. I waited for him to return. . He was a great mechanic. He got it running and fixed the coolant leak in about 45 min. . He straightened out the handle bars, the front forks, and applied strategic duct tape to the remaining plastic parts and declared the bike ready to ride. He charged me only $60 at a time when I was extremely vulnerable. It was now 2:30pm. I had dumped the bike around 9:30am. I texted my wife and told her a sensor had gone bad (no lies, it was the truth, the bike has a tip over sensor that kills the motor if it is on its side but she doesn't know that) and I stopped to get it repaired. If I repair the fairing, it will cost about $900 for the correct parts... used.
Did I say that I didn't eat breakfast and had planned to eat at about 9am in Paso? So with no breakfast and no lunch yet, I stopped at a Carls Jr for a quick bite. I was so amped up, I couldn't eat but the Diet Coke went down fast. I hit the road at 3:05, road the bike all the way with only one stop in Los Alamos for gas. Even though I had 260 miles to ride, thru rush hour traffic, I made in home at 7:05. My wife, if she hears me coming, usually opens the gate on the driveway and opens the garage. Kinda like driving into the Bat Cave. She looked at me and the bike and didn't even realize that it was missing half of the plastic and the bike was held together with duct tape. As I walked into the house, she asked me why I was limping. My leg was killing me and I didn't dare take off my boot until I got home but I bravely said that I was just sore from the long ride. I used the restroom, and took off my boots and socks. But I couldn't get my leathers off without help. She pulled my pants off and noticed my swollen purple ankle. I then told her the whole story. She was relieved to see I wasn't hurt badly. She went right to the fridge, pulled out two beers, one for me and one for her, and got me some 800 mg Advil.
I worked today because I needed to get a few things done but the ankle is even bigger and more purple that it was this morning. It is not broke, I am pretty sure, and if I give it a couple days of rest, I think it will be ok. I was walking with a limp today but got around ok.
I will not admit to anyone that I crashed. Nope. I do not want to invite all kinds of questions. All I told everyone was that I twisted my ankle getting off my bike.(truth)
All in all, it was an awesome weekend and crashing really hasn't bothered or deterred me from riding again. It is just part of the journey. This story required no embellishment, no half truths or lies. In fact, I may have left out some non essential details.
Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns.
Randy
