So - I was rushing home yesterday night (Friday 6/20) because it was mine and Mrs. Zombie's 10 year anniversary. We were having our families over for a small cookout and I wanted to get there so I could help out.
So - - I'm coming up State Route 84 on my Harley...doing about 25 or 30. I was accelerating up to 35 and - truthfully - I was winding up to it pretty quick.
That's when the guy in front of me - with out of state plates - slams on his brakes.
That's right, folks...
I wrecked my Harley.
I locked up my brakes and tried to swing out around him, but there wasn't enough room. I slammed into the back of this guy's 1984 Chevy. Since he managed to jam his brakes enough to stop and then proceed to go forward again - - I think it lessened my impact some. I flipped up and over my handlebars.
What's amazing is that I actually managed to not bash my skull on anything. Looking back - I know what saved me - years of aikido training. I went over the handlebars and all of my martial arts training, muscle memory, whatever.. kicked in. I tucked and rolled on the road and popped back up to a kneeling position. Just in time to see the Harley slam to the ground and skid to a stop a few feet away, the throttle winding up with a horrid roar.
I got up and limped over to the bike just as the guy who stopped in front of me got out of his car with a terrified look on his face.
Shaking from the adrenaline and excitement, I looked at him and said, "Are you okay?" Like he wasn't all safe and comfy in his heavy, Detroit made box, like he was somehow going to get injured by my flipping over the handle bars of my bike.
The guy behind me also got out. They helped me get my Harley up, popped into neutral, and rolled to the side of the road. After assuring all around that I was, in fact, fine, I pushed my bike down a block and parked it.
Then I had to call Mrs. Zombie.
The horror of almost dying, the horror of watching my beloved Harley skid across the ground, the shaking sick-to-my-stomach-because-I'm-coming-down-from-an-adrenaline-dump feeling... all of this paled in comparison to the shameful terror I felt in having to call the wife; with our family at the house.
So, she came to where I was... crying. She then followed me home as I limped the Harley to the house.
To make it even more awesome - my whole family's waiting on the porch when I get home.
It was not fun.
So - - you may be asking, "What's the damage, Dr. Z?"
Let me give you the run down...
In going airborne and launching myself over the front end of the bike, I managed to crack the clamp holding my ape hangers and my apes are now hanging uselessly around the gas tank. I snapped off my right side forward control footpeg, and my throttle's all fucked up (I suspect part of the problem is that there's all kinds of stress on the throtttle cable because my handlebars are ass backwards.)
Unbelievably, I didn't scratch the paint, or ding any of the tins, even though I watched the bike skid across the concrete. I did manage to snap off the end of my brake lever and scratch the chrome on my mirror on the same side. I also but a pretty deep, but small scratch in the chrome of one of my exhaust shields.
I faired about as well as the bike. Even though I didn't have anything broken off of me, my one kneee is kind of sore from the impact. My left thigh, though, that's a thing of fucking beauty. I think I hit it on the apes when I went over, which is what cracked the clamp. The inside of my thigh is sore and has begun to turn the most brilliant purple color. And when i say the inside of my thigh - I mean the ENTIRE INSIDE OF MY THIGH. From my knee to just shy of my groin, from the front all the way to the back, it's turning some really cool violet shades.
And boy does it hurt. So does my whole body for that matter. It's the following day now and I ache all over, as one would think after having had a motorcycle accident. Tylenol is my friend...
So, that's it. I somehow managed to not kill myself, and not do too much damage to my beloved Harley. Either way, it was still a good anniversary - even though Mrs. Zombie is frequently looking at me and shaking her head and saying with derision, "You're a moron!"
Pictures of the damage...
Here's my leg. The camera cannot capture how purple and angry the bruise looks...
Here's my gimped Ape Hangers
...and my broken brake lever
...And my broken forward control.
I'll try and get more pictures of the bruise as it grows because it's cool and chicks dig scars!!!!
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