Sarge
New member
- 252
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- Location
- Austin, Texas
Well boys, this morning Sarge crashed his motorcycle.
Here is the story…….
I have started to ride my M1030 (Kawasaki KLR650) to the Ranch instead of my Suburban in order to save gas.
Instead of taking my normal route to the Ranch, I thought a change of scenery would be pleasant. I took a narrow twisty county road through overhanging trees. Lovely! Around a corner, a narrow bridge warning sign. Whoops! Slow down to twenty. Instead of a narrow bridge, it’s a ford. Not a Ford like a car, a ford like a low water crossing. Ten feet into the water, I’m no longer riding, I’m flying. None of that slo-mo stuff, all of a sudden I’m face down in the river with the bike on top of me. I don’t know how other people’s thought processes work, perhaps at this point they would be thinking “did I kiss my girlfriend goodbye?” or perhaps “Crap, I’m gonna die!” Well, what really went through my pea brain was; “My new boots have filled up with water!” Strange but true.
Although the temps have been in the hundreds for the last week, the water was icy cold. I lifted my head up to breathe and noticed several things right away. I’m face down in a river. Several hundred pounds of motorcycle are on the back of my right leg and left arm. The water is very fast and cold. If I stay here, I’ll probably drown before some superman in a pickup rescues me. I turn my head and look at the bike. A lot of gas is on top of the water, kind of pretty rainbow colours. A lot of the water under the gas is tinted red. Where’s that coming from? It’s coming from under the bike from my right leg. Not good. Another weird thought hit me, if a tree hugger stops his/her car now, they will probably berate me for polluting the river. Well, now is not the time to contemplate an EPA fine, now is probably the time to get with the program. My left arm comes free pretty easily, the front of the bike is not too heavy. I try to do a push-up, but my right leg won’t move. I try harder. There is a snap from my right ankle. Bollocks! That really hurt. Well, I could either lay around crying about it or I could do something about it. I twisted the upper half of my body around and heaved up on the bars. Nothing. Still lots of gas and blood. Am I going to die of blood loss or drowning? Then a thought occurred to me, a cigarette always helps me think. I pulled the pack out of my left trouser pocket. Soaked! Now I knew I was really in deep trouble! I heaved up on the bars again. Nothing. Then another thought. I twisted the bars to the right as hard as I could. The back raised up about a half inch. It was enough to get the bike off of my leg. So now I’m standing next to the bike in rushing water, on one leg. Fear of the environmentalists, more than strength, got me to get the bike upright. Thank goodness that I no longer rode Harleys!
Now I have to get out of the river. The gearshift is bent under the motor, so I cannot put it in neutral and push it. Not very practical on one leg anyway. The rocks are so slippery that I will probably fall down again anyway. Hmmm…. So I start it and ride it out. I stopped on the dry road and sat down for a few minutes. There is an ammo box bolted to the back and dry cigarettes are inside. That’s called ‘planning ahead’. I hop back to the ford and check it out. The surface under the water is as slick as deer guts on a doorknob. I won’t ride over that anymore. The adventure is over, I think I’ll go home and have a cup of coffee. All the way home, the handlebars are pointing in one direction, the front wheel in another. My right foot is flapping in the breeze. That’s really going to hurt in a couple of days. Get home, put coffee on, sit in the shower. Wash the little stones and bugs out of the wounds and apply lots of salve.
My M1030 is trashed, but nothing that a few bucks and some bending won’t fix.
Today, I think I will drive my Suburban to the ranch, the hell with the gas cost.
Here is the story…….
I have started to ride my M1030 (Kawasaki KLR650) to the Ranch instead of my Suburban in order to save gas.
Instead of taking my normal route to the Ranch, I thought a change of scenery would be pleasant. I took a narrow twisty county road through overhanging trees. Lovely! Around a corner, a narrow bridge warning sign. Whoops! Slow down to twenty. Instead of a narrow bridge, it’s a ford. Not a Ford like a car, a ford like a low water crossing. Ten feet into the water, I’m no longer riding, I’m flying. None of that slo-mo stuff, all of a sudden I’m face down in the river with the bike on top of me. I don’t know how other people’s thought processes work, perhaps at this point they would be thinking “did I kiss my girlfriend goodbye?” or perhaps “Crap, I’m gonna die!” Well, what really went through my pea brain was; “My new boots have filled up with water!” Strange but true.
Although the temps have been in the hundreds for the last week, the water was icy cold. I lifted my head up to breathe and noticed several things right away. I’m face down in a river. Several hundred pounds of motorcycle are on the back of my right leg and left arm. The water is very fast and cold. If I stay here, I’ll probably drown before some superman in a pickup rescues me. I turn my head and look at the bike. A lot of gas is on top of the water, kind of pretty rainbow colours. A lot of the water under the gas is tinted red. Where’s that coming from? It’s coming from under the bike from my right leg. Not good. Another weird thought hit me, if a tree hugger stops his/her car now, they will probably berate me for polluting the river. Well, now is not the time to contemplate an EPA fine, now is probably the time to get with the program. My left arm comes free pretty easily, the front of the bike is not too heavy. I try to do a push-up, but my right leg won’t move. I try harder. There is a snap from my right ankle. Bollocks! That really hurt. Well, I could either lay around crying about it or I could do something about it. I twisted the upper half of my body around and heaved up on the bars. Nothing. Still lots of gas and blood. Am I going to die of blood loss or drowning? Then a thought occurred to me, a cigarette always helps me think. I pulled the pack out of my left trouser pocket. Soaked! Now I knew I was really in deep trouble! I heaved up on the bars again. Nothing. Then another thought. I twisted the bars to the right as hard as I could. The back raised up about a half inch. It was enough to get the bike off of my leg. So now I’m standing next to the bike in rushing water, on one leg. Fear of the environmentalists, more than strength, got me to get the bike upright. Thank goodness that I no longer rode Harleys!
Now I have to get out of the river. The gearshift is bent under the motor, so I cannot put it in neutral and push it. Not very practical on one leg anyway. The rocks are so slippery that I will probably fall down again anyway. Hmmm…. So I start it and ride it out. I stopped on the dry road and sat down for a few minutes. There is an ammo box bolted to the back and dry cigarettes are inside. That’s called ‘planning ahead’. I hop back to the ford and check it out. The surface under the water is as slick as deer guts on a doorknob. I won’t ride over that anymore. The adventure is over, I think I’ll go home and have a cup of coffee. All the way home, the handlebars are pointing in one direction, the front wheel in another. My right foot is flapping in the breeze. That’s really going to hurt in a couple of days. Get home, put coffee on, sit in the shower. Wash the little stones and bugs out of the wounds and apply lots of salve.
My M1030 is trashed, but nothing that a few bucks and some bending won’t fix.
Today, I think I will drive my Suburban to the ranch, the hell with the gas cost.
