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JeF4y's quick comment. This story is GREAT, a bit long but read it out. Well worth it.
JeF4y's quick comment. This story is GREAT, a bit long but read it out. Well worth it.
As any of you can probably guess by the title of this, I had another accident. Let me explain my night up to the accident first, because I obviously have your attention at this point. I went out with my friend Terry, he has a 98 CBR600F3. We decided to ride through Josua Tree National Monument. We took the 30 mile ride through from 29 Palms out to I-10. This part of the Monument is filled with killer twisties, and some real tight switchbacks. The only bad thing about riding through here is watching for sand on the road. Other than that, this ride is 30 miles of total excitement. The slowest we got to was about 35 mph through a few 25 mph turns (the sign really did mean 25 mph on a few of them, and I found myself slamming the brakes on to stay on the road.) Other than that, we were taking posted 35 mph turns anywhere from 50 to 85 mph, and taking the straights at about 110. I was leading, and I took it easy on the straights so I wouldn't have to brake like all hell for the next turn. Also, the sun was just setting when we got into the monument, and visibility sucked. The ride was still awesome, and I could feel my adrenaline pumping from the ride for over 30 minutes after we got out of there. We were both so hyped up we needed to pull over 10 miles after we got on to I-10 and smoke a few cigarettes.
Then we hit Palm Springs. We pretty much just sat on our bikes on the strip, waiting for more bikes to show up. We saw a few groups cruise by us, but they obviously had bugs up their butts cause they weren't parking on the strip like everyone normally does. I took a few laps around the strip with them, and they were hiding out in dark parking lots. Something is just not right with the sport bike riders in Palm Springs anymore, because they used to all hang out with anyone that had a sport bike. Now I think they have formed their own little group and don't want anything to do with us people not in their little group. Hey, if they think I am not good enough for them, they obviously aren't good enough for me.
After a while, we decided to go to a place where people race cars sometimes. It's a spot right by I-10 where there are some warehouses. Now we had been there twice before and no one was there but us. But we had been told by the person that showed us that spot that people normally are there. We show up there and there are about 10 other people there. Me and Terry decide to get some wheelie practice. This is a decent spot for wheelie practice. The wind blows through there, but it is either at your back or in your face, never from the side. And it always blows one direction. The road is smooth blacktop and about 1/4 mile long from the deadend to the part that connects in a T with another road. We played with our wheelies (both of us can't do anything but 1st gear wheelies still, I know, we suck) for over 2 hours on and off. Some of our wheelies were getting up around 300 feet, and mine were at anything from a 45 degree angle and higher, the majority of them being 60+ degrees. During our little 2 hour wheelie stint, more cars and people were showing up. They were racing little cars (for example, there was a CRX, and old VW bug, a new VW bug, a ford probe, a mazda miata) and it was almost like we were taking turns with the racing and the wheelies. Me and Terry even raced each other, and the only reason he beat me was because he got a better jump off the line. But that F3 couldn't pull away from me, and I think that if I would've gotten a start as good as he did, I would've beat him.
Damian, a little Romanian guy with a ZX-7, showed up. He was teasing me bout racing me, and I told him I would eventually. Hell, maybe I could beat that 98 ZX-7, who knows. During the 2 hours me and Terry had been there, approximately 100 people had shown up. We decide that me, Terry, and Damian are all going to race at once. We found a more than willing girl to give us the ready-set-go. We lined up and got ready to race.
Now remembering how earlier Terry had gotten the jump on me, and how he had only beaten me cause of the jump he got, I was going to make sure I got a good jump off the line. I revved the bike to 5000, putting all my weight forward. My plan was to get the clutch out fast with out dumping it, for I knew that I could possibly stand the bike up revving it at 5000 from a dead start. Our starter dropped her arms, and off we went.
My plan to get the clutch out fast backfired on me. I ended up dumping it out. The bike went about a foot before it started to stand up. It stood up about 60 degrees, and I felt like I had a good feel on it, so I decided to ride it out. After all, I was in a race, and I wasn't going to let a wheelie off the line stop me. I figured I could ride it out to 13000 and shift it as the tire touched down. Let me tell all of you that have read this so far, testosterone is a bad thing. REALLY BAD.
My F4 kept going at a 60 degree angle for a short while before it started coming up more. Then, the evil bitch (yes, I think my bike is turning into an evil bitch) decided to kick to the left. This actually turned out to be a good thing though. She kept coming up, and I went over backwards and to the left. Earth is not a good thing when you are going probably 30 mph (this is my best estimate on my speed.) I slammed to the ground with the bike. The only part of me still on the bike was my right hand, which was opening up the throttle even more. We spun one and a half times on the ground before the bike lost momentum. During this spin, I was face to face with the sparks coming off of the bike as it slid down the road. When the bike finally lost momentum, my 155 lb body didn't, and I rolled 3 or 4 times afterwards. Fortunately, I was able to stand up right away. There was an onset of pain into my left knee, but I was walking back to the bike, so it wasn't that bad.
I was already shaking my head and laughing at myself by the time I stood up. The crowd of people was on their way over to check my condition from the time I stood up on 2 feet, and I could hear the other 2 bikes slowing down about 200 yards away. Then came the slew of questions, and they were the same 2 questions over and over. "Are you ok?" "Is the bike okay?"
I took my helmet off. Then pulled the newly ripped part of my jeans back and looked at the blood. Seeing no bones sticking out, I picked the bike up. Terry and Damian had returned by the time i got the bike on her kickstand. We looked at the damage, nothing was damaged beyond what had gotten damaged when I had the accident with Kara. My alternator cover that I had JB weld had cracked open again, but it was a real slow leak. I pushed the bike back to where everyone was chilling out while still hearing the same 2 questions over and over. It didn't get annoying hearing those 2 questions repeatedly, because I could hear the concern in their voices. That was actually pretty cool that about 100 total strangers were actually concerned.
Then, about 15 minutes after I went down, the cops showed up to bust the place. We knew that this was a high possibility, but it had to come at a bad time. As everyone scattered, I knew I was fucked. I hopped on the bike and struggled to get her started. It took 3 or 4 tries but she fired up. I rode around the warehouse and hid there until everything cleared. 20 minutes later Terry showed back up, and i ran from my hiding spot and flagged him down. We rode home (45 minute drive) and the bike was fine on the way home.
Now, the distances I went. I walked the distance the next day. I haven't gotten the conversion down yet, but this is how it looked. I was wearing 9 1/2 Nike sneakers. I went 72 steps heel to toe from the point my front tire was at when we started to the first scrapes in the road. This should end up being about 60 actual feet. Then, the length of the scrapes I left in the road was 46 heel to toe steps. I figure this is about 30 - 35 actual feet.
The damage to my body doesn't seem that bad. I have two HUGE raspberries on my left knee. They are probably 1 1/4 inches across. One is on the kneecap itself, the other is right below it. My left hand has a blister and a 1/4 inch across raspberry. This happened through my new AXD riding gloves. Good thing I was wearing gloves. My knee is sore still, and it hurts a little to put weight on it. My right arm is a little sore, but doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it.
The damage to the bike isn't that bad. The upper fairing and the left lower fairing got scratched up more. The alternator cover re-cracked and there was oil slowly leaking. The left turnsignal cover won't snap back on, but it does stay where it is supposed to. All in all, the damage to myself and the bike isn't bad.
The damage to my ego, however, well, amazingly it isn't that bad. I am actually surprised that it took me 2 1/2 months of doing wheelies to finally lose one and go down. I thought for sure that I was gonna go down hard when I first started learning how to wheelie. Not bad, eh?
That's my story, hope ya like it. And I also hope that this doesn't happen again. Keep the rubber side down everyone!!!!!!! Mikey