Analysis and follow-up to yesterday's motorcycle crash post

Here's my follow up to yesterday's motorcycle crash (prior posts).

Analysis

So what really happened here?

I was nearing the end of a two day 750 mile ride from New England to my home in Detroit. The final leg of my route took me through Ontario, Canada, to the Ambassador Bridge. (Motorcycles are not allowed to use the Tunnel.) I was anxious to get home. The traffic leading to the Ambassador Bridge was stop and go for a couple of miles in Windsor. Probably took me close to an hour to reach U.S. Customs. Trust me on this: Stop and go on a motorcycle is much worse, more stressful, and more tiring than in a car. At Customs, I endured the usual questions, including "What do you do for a living?" For a few minutes, the Customs Officer and I chatted about non-customs issues. Finally, I was waved on.

After paying the bridge toll, I entered I-75 northbound and took this to the northbound Lodge (10) ramp. I've ridden this ramp a number of times, and never had a problem. I estimate I was going about 35 MPH on the ramp, staying to the outside of the lane to give me a visual on any traffic or debris ahead. Suddenly I realized I was at the edge of the lane and counter-steered slightly to the left. At that time my tires started to lose traction in the gravel between the roadway and the guardrail. My tires then hit the uneven pavement line and I went down on my left side as my bike skidded towards the guardrail. Yes, I was concerned that I was about to be flipped over the guardrail. It would have definitely been lights out if that had happened. The base of the guardrail stopped my skid. I tried to crawl out from the bike, but couldn't free my left leg. Gas started leaking next to my face and I yelled out for help. A big man in a hard hat came running up and lifted the bike up off of my leg. I was then able to crawl out. I only recall him remarking how lucky I was that I was wearing protective gear. He helped me to upright my bike, which we had to pull from the guardrail's base where the tires had come to rest.

I am very sore this morning (left ankle, left side of my neck, and right side of my chest, primarily). But very thankful too. I figure if I was going a little bit faster - say 40 or 45 MPH, I wouldn't be writing this.

So, what are the lessons?

I definitely was preoccupied with thoughts of getting home. I was aggravated by the delay getting through customs. So, I wasn't as focused as I should have been.

I may have entered the ramp a bit faster than I should have, although 35 MPH seems quite reasonable. Knowing Detroit road-debris as I do, I definitely should have stayed in the middle of the roadway, rather than to the outside of the lane. I should have anticipated road debris, including glass and gravel and oil and adjusted my path accordingly.

Finally, I'm thankful that I was wearing protective gear. And that weather didn't add to the slickness of the roadway.

I'm mighty thankful to be able to write this this morning.

In conclusion: My advice is to maintain focus; Wear proper gear; Slow down on overpasses and ramps; Expect gravel and debris at the road's edge. These principles apply to bicyclists as well as motorcyclists.

Why I ride a motorcycle

This is sort of a prologue to my post about the crash on the last mile of my ride today. I was writing this in my head the entire trip. I guess the crash is the epilogue

Why I ride a motorcycle

I figure it's not a real motorcycle ride unless you pray at least once.

This Tuesday morning, at about 6:30 AM, I checked out of my motel in Buffalo, NY, bungee corded my waterproof duffel bag to my Triumph Bonneville motorcycle, and headed out. Destination: my home in Detroit.

In hindsight, lots of things were going against me. It was dark; I was not familiar with the roads; It was foggy; It was also raining steadily, though not heavily. My bike doesn't have a windshield. Nonetheless, I was anxious to get home, and I had rain resistant gear on. So I headed out west on I-90 towards Niagara Falls, where I would cross into Canada to take the short-cut through Ontario to Windsor (also known as south Detroit!). The rain got worse and there was some flooding on the roads. And I couldn't see the puddles on the roadway, nor could I see the white lane markers, the fog lines, or the road itself. I could only see, and even this wasn't clear, the tail lights on the big truck in front of me. Almost forgot, I did see a couple of a dead Bambi relatives along side the road. I'm sure they'll put up "Warning Deer" signs in the area next year.

So I followed those truck lights as I tried to clear the mist from my face shield. Nearly blind (remember, motorcycles don't have windshield wipers), I raised my face shield to try to get rid of the fogging. Sure enough, a tiny bug committed suicide by prescription lens. Naturally, I used my glove to try and wipe away the bug's remains. A semi-opaque bug residue paste resulted! I figure I was down to one and a half eyes. At that moment a van pulled up on my left, too close for comfort, and started honking. At 65 miles per hour. Thinking there might be something wrong with my bike, the luggage, or whatever, I looked over as the van driver honked again. With a big smile he pointed at the bike, and gave me a big thumbs up! Nice compliment, pal. Wrong time for it. Particularly when I can't see. At this point I said a few prayers. They always go pretty much the same way: an admission of my stupidity, a plea to let me live through this; followed by a promise that I'll never be so stupid again!

Although correlation certainly isn't causation, the weather did finally start to clear up as I approached the toll both at the Rainbow Bridge in Niagara Falls. The toll taker demonstrated that he has an excellent grasp of the obvious when he said to me, "Little wet out there, eh?" I replied, "It's a British bike. It's s'posed to be wet." He laughed and asked, "Are you English?" "Nah, but I speak the language." He laughed again, waved me on, and said "Nice Bike."

I crossed the Rainbow Bridge and approached the Canadian Customs booth. Two vehicles were ahead of me, one a bicycle! (Now that really made me mad! The folks in Niagara have figured out how to let bikes ride across an international bridge. Why not us?) The two vehicles went through and I rode ahead. The Canadian customs officer asked the usual assortment of questions: Citizenship? Where are you going? Where do you live? Where are you coming from? Is this your bike? Do you know the license number? Do you have any firearms with you? Same old stuff. "Just riding through Ontario trying to get home, sir." Satisfied that I didn't need any further scrutiny, the customs officer then said, "Nice Triumph. I used to ride. But got married, had kids, and the wife said no more motorcycle." I gave him the "I feel for you" grin and head nod as he waved me on. Never heard that story before (sarcasm alert!).

And up until my incident one mile from home, the rest of the journey was uneventful. And as I rode I thought that these are the reasons I ride. The challenge of weather, of road conditions, and the chit-chat that motorcyclists are regularly engaged in. There's a reason many motorcyclists refer to cars as "cages." The only thing that would have made the journey better was if a certain "bird" (slang, Great Britain) was sitting behind me with her arms around my waist.

HERE'S THE EPILOGUE TO THIS. I'll write "lessons learned" later!

Well, I had just crossed the Ambassador Bridge into Detroit and was thinking about writing a short summary about my love of motorcycling. I was taking the ramp onto southbound 10 (Lodge) when I encountered
loose gravel then uneven pavement. My bike went out from underneath me and I went down skidding next to and then into the guardrail. At least a 100 foot drop over the guardrail. I thought for a moment that I was going over the guardrail. Yes, scary indeed. The bike stopped on top of my left ankle. Gas was leaking. A hard hat stopped and helped pull the bike off of me. We were able to lift the bike up. Shift lever broken off. I was wearing the right gear! Which saved my knees. The boots helped, but I've wrapped my sore ankle. I was able to get the bike home by staying in 3rd gear! I'm shaken up, but will be OK. My first "going down" at speed. 750 mile trip, and this was the very last mile. Lesson there for sure.