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7 years since bad accident, thinking about Triumphant return...

827 views 5 replies 3 participants last post by  Falcon1220 
G
#1 ·
Yes, pun intended :) TLDR at the end but I've been told this is an interesting read.

I've been in love with the idea of riding a motorcycle for as long as I can remember. I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me get a scooter when I was 15, but they wouldn't budge. They insisted I'd be killed. Every few years I'd test the waters again, requesting permission to ride a motorcycle, and every few years it was the same routine. They forbade it while I was living under their roof.

I moved out at 23, and at the time I was in a serious relationship. I turned my attention to imports, acquiring and modding a 2002 Acura RSX Type-S to be a drag and autocross beast with some flair. She was my obsession until 2004 when I traded her in for a Honda Element. At that time I was engaged and was thinking about my future, and realized it was going to cost too much to continue with my hobby. As much as my name says no regrets, I do regret getting rid of that car, or should I say I learned the lesson of “never give up something you love because of a woman.” I got into R/C cars and trucks (nitro) to quench my thirst for modding and toys, but they didn't do as well as I thought they would.

After going bankrupt in 2005 from a history of abusing credit cards and the lost money from a cancelled wedding (a whole other story), I thought that was it for the toys for a while. In 2006 I made my triumphant return to the import scene, picking up a 2006 Candy White 2dr GTI. LOVED that car so much, and modding it was so much fun. Issues with the fuel pump follower design, faulty pcv valves, and a useless stock diverter valve prompted me to sell and return to Honda. Picked up a 2008 Element.
In 2009, at age 30, I finally decided to pursue my dream of riding a motorcycle. I took the MSF course, and obsessed over technique and safety. I read every book I could find on riding properly, watched the Ride like a pro series multiple times, and even picked up cones to create tracks for myself in parking lots to hone my skills. I wound up picking up a 2009 Kawasaki Vulcan 900 Custom. OMG I was absolutely in love with her, and riding was something I did not do out of obligation to get to point B, but out of sheer desire to be on the road. I rode everywhere, as much as possible. I was living to ride, it was my greatest obsession, and the most wonderful feeling I have ever had on wheels.

Wound up getting rid of the Element and picked up a 2009 Accord V6 Coupe in blue with navigation. Nice ride, but not thrilled with it. It did the job at the time, though, as my bad weather/passenger transportation. Issues with the VCM system made me trade it in after only a short time. Did I mention I went through cars faster than some people go through underwear? Yeah, I have a problem. Didn’t matter though, I had Lucile (The Vulcan), and she was the 2nd love of my life, with the 1st position taken by my girlfriend whom I was head over heels in love with. I knew I’d met my soul mate, and she did too, but only being together for 6 months meant we had some time before we could do anything “drastic”. Still, the thoughts were there, and we both knew where it was headed.

August 17th, 2009. After work my girlfriend and her friend were hanging at my place and we decided to head down Deer Park Avenue on Long Island (where we lived) to go to the new Buffalo Wild Wings. I was only riding since April so she wasn't allowed to get on with me as I was not comfortable taking a passenger yet, but she said I should take my bike because a mutual friend was riding there with some other riders. I was thrilled that she was so understanding and hopped on my bike while they lead with her car. Approaching the CVS/Starbucks shopping center on DPA, I see on the opposite side of the road a Hyundai Elantra waiting to turn left. I checked my mirrors, covered my brakes as I was taught in the MSF and moved to lane position 3 to get my headlight right in the kids face. Didn't make a damn bit of difference, he pulled out at the last possible moment.

It was slow motion. I squeezed the front brake as I applied pressure to the rear in the panic stop situation I have practiced so many times before. We're taught to brake or swerve never both but I knew I had just enough traction to try and angle to the right in the hopes he'd stop when he realized what he had done. No luck. A few words flashed in my head right before impact. “You didn’t”. I couldn’t believe he just came out like that. How did he not see me?! That was a split second as I continued the stop, and got just far enough over to the right to hit his fender. My body folded over and my head smashed the windshield. I watched it shatter through the face shield of my full face helmet, hearing the female passengers scream bloody murder at the sight of a 235lb man slamming into their car at almost 30mph. The side view mirror dug deeply into my left side as I bounced back off the car landing in the street. The bike ricocheted right and hit the curb. I looked up to see her laying on her side, the safety switch for such a situation cutting the engine and as I looked at her for that brief moment, I knew I would never ride again.

Despite being a safety nut, having worn a full face helmet, armored jacket, Kevlar lined jeans, knee and shin guards, and riding boots, I was in an immense amount of pain. Breathing was extremely difficult and I felt like someone stabbed me in the back with a knife, had it still inside and was twisting. A Good Samaritan who introduced himself as Mike, stopped and talked to me. He tried to keep me calm until help arrived which was seemingly very quick from my perspective. Having been a volunteer fireman myself and responding to calls like this it always seemed us to take forever to get to a scene, but I digress. I couldn't get up, I couldn't move beyond breathing and writhing in agony, and could barely speak. I had to keep my left knee bent and my left hand under my back for support. It was the only thing that helped at all. Thoughts of death ran through my head, but only for a brief moment. I started forcing myself to analyze the situation to keep myself from panicking. "It's a few broken bones in my back, but I can move my toes so I'm not paralyzed. Most likely internal bleeding but they'll get it under control at the hospital, I just have to make it to the hospital. Oh my God what about my baby? She didn't see what happened or she'd be here already. She's going to freak. Whatever I do, just have to tell her it's going to be ok, keep her calm. Am I going to be ok? Is this it? No, it can’t be. I’m going to be fine, I just need to get to the hospital and into the O.R. They’ll fix me."

The ambulance arrives and loads me up. Once I was settled in, I gave the paramedic my phone and asked him to call my girl. He gave her the information as the ambulance passed where they were waiting for me. Her friend drove her to the hospital a little faster than she should have, but she got there not long after I did. While I was lying there being assessed she showed up and found me. She asked me if she should call my parents, which only took a minute for me to agree to since this this was probably pretty serious and they would have killed me if I didn’t. I reassured her that everything was going to be fine, but she saw in my face and the way I was starting to fade out that it wasn’t. Still in immense pain, barely able to speak, she knew I was lying. The time in the emergency room seemed like forever, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. They finally wheeled me in to the MRI and I was asked to hold my breath as they scanned for internal injuries. I laughed in my own head "are they kidding? HOLD my breath?" I don’t know how I was able to manage it but I did, and they got their scans. What made it worse was that the IV they started got snagged on the table as it was being fed into the machine and I had to use that hand to hold the tube and keep it from pulling out. The scan was quick, and they had me out and back into the ER again waiting. The pain was intensifying rapidly, and my tolerance was waning. I begged for something for the pain, but until they knew what was going on they refused. It seemed like an eternity, but the doctor finally spoke to me. "We're going to give you something for the pain now, please try to relax". That was it, no info on what was going on. At that point I didn't care, I couldn't take the pain anymore and I was begging for mercy. I gladly accepted what they gave me, which knocked me out almost instantly. Fuzzy memories from there, but I remember waking up just a little to hear a nurse saying "he's vomiting" and I felt myself throw up but I could still breathe. Weird sensation for sure. Couldn't open my eyes, or fully wake up, so when I realized I was still breathing, I went back to sleep.

The next time I woke up, it was to the doctor explaining to me that they needed me to exhale when they pulled the tube out of my throat. My dad was there as well telling me that I was ok and that I just needed to follow their instructions. I coughed a few times which was excruciating, but I could breathe on my own. I tried to speak but no sound came out I was just able to whisper "what happened?" to my dad. He thought I meant I didn't realize I was in the accident. I knew I was, I wanted to know why I had a tube in my throat and what the damage was. No answers, so I went back to sleep. Didn’t have to fight it, I was completely exhausted and had no energy at all.

Next time I was woken up, it was by a couple of nurses whom I thought were unbelievably hot. Maybe it was the drugs I was on, or maybe they were something out of a movie, but either way their beauty faded as they helped me roll over so they could wash me. A wash of intense pain came over my entire body and I was barely able to breathe. I suffered through the cleansing, but went back to sleep immediately after. They must have pushed more drugs. I was out.

The very next time I woke up I was more lucid. I had visitors and it was wonderful to see my family, even if it was in the ICU. My girl was right by my side. I came to find out later that when everything happened, only my parents were allowed to see me. She was an absolute wreck over this, and understandably so, but so were my parents over what they were dealing with. Once she was allowed to be with me though, she never left.

Doc comes in the room a few days later, and his first statement to me was "Wow, you look pretty good for someone who lost a few organs!" Wait, WHAT?!?! What weren't they telling me?!? Dad looked at me with this look of troubled sadness, and told me that they had to remove my left kidney and spleen. I sat there in horror as he explained the extent of my injuries.

Severed kidney, irreparable.
Ruptured Spleen
4 cracked vertebrae
4 cracked ribs
Both lungs collapsed
21 units of blood lost to internal bleeding
Multiple surgeries to repair the damage

They kept me unconscious for 6 days because they said the pain would be too much to bear, even on medication. The kidney was hard to swallow, the spleen I could give 2 ****s about, but knowing that my family suffered watching me in this condition was traumatic. I can’t imagine the pain they must have felt, or the immense relief when they finally woke me up.

The rest of my hospital stay was painful, but I walked, a lot. Tried stairs a few times, and was able to get around fairly well for someone whose mid-section was split open stem to stern. The morphine helped a lot. The pills when I got home were ok, but it didn’t take long to get off of those. Never became addicted to them, which was a miracle. It only took me 2 weeks to get home to be miserable there, and 2 months to get back to work. Having a desk job has its perks sometimes. It’s been 7 years since the accident, and by looking at me you’d never know anything happened. The only marks on me are from the surgeries, none from the actual impact. I've had 2 more surgeries since then, both abdominal hernia repairs since the muscles never completely closed, but everything is fine now. The kidney I have left is strong and working well, and my life got back to normal fairly quickly. Wearing all that gear saved my life, as did the doctors who worked tirelessly to save me. I am and will be eternally grateful to them for all they did.

I was told stories during my stay and after I got home. Stories of my girlfriend on the floor of the emergency room inconsolable when my parents were called to be by my bedside as they didn't believe I would survive the night. My father, who I have only seen cry once in my entire life when my grandfather died, sobbing over pictures of me outside the emergency room. My best friend who refused to leave the hospital until he found out I was ok, and brought in blankets for my family that were staying as well. It broke my heart to hear what my friends and family went through, but my decision to ride put us all in that situation, and I swore to them never to ride again.

The problem is, I miss it. Every ******n day I miss it. Every time I see a bike, or a group of riders enjoying a beautiful sunny day. Every time I hear that rumble, it makes my heart leap. I yearn for it. This is something I’m told only riders will understand, and it has proven to be the case. Even hinting to my wife, or anyone else that knew me and loved me at the time, that I may one day ride again, would result in a barrage of stories of what they went through when I was unconscious. Every time I see a rider with no gear on it baffles me how someone like me with all the preparation in the world could have this ripped away in a split second. I tried filling the void with a 2005 Honda S2000, but it didn’t last long. Had a few other imports since, wound up with a Volt that turned out to be a lemon, and have a nice boring Ford Fusion Titanium now.

That brings us to today. My girlfriend and I wound up getting married, and we’ve moved from Long Island to North Dallas, Texas a few years ago. We settled down nicely in a town called Little Elm. I made a few friends that ride, and one in particular keeps pushing for me to get back in the saddle. I really wasn’t ready, not then, but something happened a few weeks ago to change that. A friend of mine picked up a new KTM 390 Duke and, one beautiful day at work, he asked if I wanted to sit on it. I said sure, no harm in that right? Next thing I know he starts it up. Normally I’m not into Naked or Sport bikes (I’m a cruiser lover at heart), but something about the feeling of this magnificent beast springing to life woke something up inside of me. The adrenaline started pumping, the endorphins were released, and I felt something I haven’t felt in a long time. I think it was a combination of 98% excited 2% scared, or maybe it was the other way around, but that’s what made it so intense. It’s so confusing. Yes, I stole that from a movie, work with me here. I sat there for a moment, then gave the throttle a little blip. Oh my. He takes a few steps back and tells me to creep toward him. I recognized this technique from the MSF course, he was having me walk the bike to get a feel for the clutch. I obeyed. He took a further step back and did it again. He looked at me with a **** eating grin on his face and says, “ok, now take it around the building”. What? I couldn’t! I didn’t have ANY gear on, and my wife would KILL me if she found out! I shouldn’t. I really, really, shou…click back into 1st, checked that I was clear and off I went. 2nd gear, 3rd. The feeling washed over me like a wave of pure bliss. I was riding again! I never wound up leaving the parking lot, but there was a stretch of road around the front that I was able to get going at a nice clip, and one small turn to lean into. I made my way back to where he was, backed into his parking spot, shut her down and, with my legs shaking, reluctantly removed myself from the saddle. I grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a bro hug and whispered ever so softly, “Thank you.” He knew what he was doing, and he accomplished it. I was bitten, HARD. I NEEDED to ride again, it wasn’t a question any more. I needed to be back on 2 wheels. There was only one problem, or rather, a few. Wife, and family. This wasn’t going to be easy.

I wound up telling the wife what happened at work, and she was a bit upset but nowhere near as bad as I thought she would be. I think she knew then that I was going to start talking about riding again, but she and I both brushed it off for the moment as we had other things on our minds at the time. Over the next few days I did start thinking about it more and more, and started justifying in my head why it would be safer to ride in the farm country north of Dallas than in congested NY. I had a plan to get gear that featured high-viz yellow as the primary color, and to take the safety course again as a refresher since it has been so long. In my head, I could do this again, and even safer than last time. This could be possible.

One day a few weeks ago, I decided to take her on a drive just 5 minutes north of where we live, and we wound up in what we would call “bum****” Texas. It was open fields and open roads as far as the eye could see, and looking at the maps, even the towns were tiny and few and far between. Traffic was virtually non-existent. She started to loosen up about the idea of me riding again if that would be my playground, and we started an open dialog. I’ve made some progress, but there are some conditions to getting another bike. All of them can easily be met, except one. I have to tell my parents, and ask them not to hold it against her if I wound up riding again. And here is where we are now. How do I tell my mom and dad that I want to ride again? How can I face them knowing all they’ve been through while I lay there dying? My dad tells me to this day he still has nightmares. Now, I’m not young, I’m in my late 30’s. They technically don’t have any say as to whether I ride or not, but it still doesn’t make this any easier. I know the barrage that’s coming, I know what the conversation will be like. “Are you ****ing crazy???”, “No, just no, what the **** is wrong with you?”, “You’re not happy that you didn’t kill yourself the first time?”, “They’re all gonna laugh at you!” (ok that last one was just something I threw in to be funny, hope you smiled ) I may be forbidden, they may threaten to disown me. None of this will go down smooth, none of it will be easy.

Anyway. Just wanted to share my story and say hello. Been looking at the Vulcan S ABS as a way to start over, but a friend of mine has been saying I should start looking at naked bikes. Not a huge fan of most but there is something about the Triumph Street Triple R that just speaks to me. It really impresses. Have to ride one to be sure, but that's the plan right now. I'm 6' 260lbs so the regular Striple may be too weak in the suspension from what I'm reading. I know it’s been a long time but I was never one to push limits at all. The Striple having more power than a “noob” should have really shouldn’t be an issue. I don’t stunt, speed into triple digits, or take blind turns. Having a little oomph and the ability to lean a bit would be nice though.

TLDR – Rode bike, almost died through no fault of my own, want to ride again. Looking at Vulcan S or maybe my first naked, the Striple R.
 
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#2 ·
Welcome to the forum!

So, when I saw the length of your introduction I was at first put off. I read everybody's introduction and try to provide some guidance as to where in the site is a good place to start. Some days (as the last few days have been) there will be dozens of new introduction I try to get though and be as helpful as I can, despite the fact that I should pay a bit more attention to my paying job and my family. I do enjoy reading thorough introductions, though. It is why I volunteered for this little gig.

But your story is extremely well told and interesting. Thank you for sharing it! I am happy to read that the recovery from such an accident was as complete as yours has been.

As for your parents; you are on your own, Dude! You just need to be upfront about it, explain the need, and take some beating.

This site is broken up into several sections, including model specific forums. Go to those forums and read what people say about their Triumphs to determine if they might be for you. I am 6' and 255 pounds. My Speed Triple is definitely more to my liking than the Street Triple. My Rocket, of course, is even better at accommodating my size. Have you considered the Thunderbird? Now THAT is one cool cruiser!

Make yourself at home and browse the forums. If you need some guidance navigating this site, please just ask.

Cheers!
 
G
#3 ·
The idea behind getting a standard/naked is the handling, and I've read the Street handles better than the Speed, but I won't rule anything out yet. Considering the Vulcan was a pig in the handling department, and the nature of my accident, I am left to wonder if I had more flickability could I have pushed further right and out of the situation I was in. Don't know for sure and never will, but handling is more important now than it ever was. The Vulcan S is one of the best handling cruisers from the research I've been doing.

As far as my parents, old school Italian. Even at 37 I'm scared of my dad!

I appreciate the welcome and will definitely give the Speed a look. Thank you! Edit: yeah that's a bit too aggressive for me!
 
#4 · (Edited)
Hi and welcome back!
Sean's suggestion of a T-Bird is a sweet idea, comfortable and forgiving package on an extremely nice looking cruiser. I really enjoyed reading your post, it's very well written and I must say I misted up there for a second or two. Something on choice of bikes... the joy of riding doesn't really change that much depending on what you are on. For kicks I ride a 118cc 1968 Suzuki Bearcat up to the store. I've owned and ridden some real dogs, one had a grey primer paint job, but did not care one whit, open road, grasshoppers smackin' me in the cheek, it's ALL good. Been riding since I was a tot but was fortunate to grow up in a motorcycle family, started with a Honda 50 and moved up gradually. Like a dweeb I overestimated my skills when I was about 25 and bought a Kawasaki 750 Triple, I was 110 lbs and the thing was freakin' scary fast. I nailed a curb and a light pole with it when I disregarded braking distance for the traffic conditions, swerved to avoid some jerk in a lincoln and totaled it. My next bike was a Honda 350.. If I might offer a suggestion... you might want to think about NOT going for performance and agility right out of the box. Had a guy pull up along side me today and try to coax a drag race, I watched him gun it and he and his new Hayabusa ride away. He was so far behind that bike, you could see his body lurch back on acceleration, bike wavering as he really had no clue how to ride it... yeah, light pole in his future... The joy of riding is rooted in the freedom you feel, not what you're sitting on.
Best wishes to you,
Deb
 
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