Man down: A true story

It had already been a long day. Scrambling to get projects at work taken care of while getting home in time to squeeze in a workout and get to class. As per the usual Tuesday routine, I was going to ride one of my motorcycles to class. The weather in Las Vegas is still nice enough in late October to only need light riding gear. I geared up with the usual ‘Joe Rocket’ Jacket, Gloves, HJC helmet and book bag. I enjoyed the ride to classes the few days a week that I had them. The motorcycle I chose for this night’s excursion was my Katana 750. I decided to leave the uber performance bikes in the garage this time around.

So, cruising through moderate traffic I was doing my best to watch all the cars around me and hoped they were doing their best to watch for me. Sometimes people just do not watch close enough; this night’s subject was an elderly man driving his small white 4-door Honda. His wife in the car with him, he decided that he did not need to turn left though he was in traffic sitting in the left turn lane. Without a thought he darted out of the cluster of stopped cars that were waiting for the light to change and into traffic he went. There was only one snag in his plan to get around the red turn arrow; I was right where he wanted to be... going about 35 miles an hour.

He pulled out of the line of cars quick and before I could say “Fuuuuck” I laid the motorcycle down. I set her down hard on the right side to keep from hitting his car and doing my best “Peter Pan” over the handle bars. Laying the bike down on its side has its disadvantages as well; I bounced off the pavement a couple of times and did the asphalt slide. (Who said white men couldn’t dance?) Fortunately for me traffic stopped behind me so I did not have to get the “Jiffy Lube” view of the Ford Expedition following right behind me. I did the ‘sack check’ to make sure my balls were still attached and the twig and berries were unharmed.

I stood up and saw that he was already through the intersection but had slowed down to a crawl on the other side of the light. I started waving my arms frantically at him, (anyone who has seen ‘Team America: World Police’ will know what this looks like) to get him to stop. He turned on his hazards and started to walk back across the intersection to me. I looked down the Katana beneath me; she looked back up at me with a black eye before the engine finally died. I was pissed. My jeans had been ripped open and I could see (and feel) the road rash underneath. I was okay for the most part and was now ready to have a word with Mr. 4-door Honda.

Being a man of relatively cool demeanor but I was a bit out of character by the time the old man made it over back to me. At that point I proceeded to make “Full Metal Jacket” look like a Disney movie. He told me that I was doing 90 down the road and I called him everything but a white boy. Meanwhile, a lady behind me who witnessed the incident had pulled over and called the police. During my verbal exchange, I use the term ‘exchange’ loosely as the old man could hardly get a word in; I explained to him that I could have been killed and that he needs to pay more attention. Now sauce up that last sentence Jerry Springer style and you will what it would have been like to see it live.

By the time the State Troopers got there I had cooled down and actually apologized the old man for being so profane, but told him that I meant every word. The Troopers were actually very nice. He was in tactical mode and I was about 6 inches taller then him so every time I stepped towards him he took a step back and vice versa. To avoid our continuing trooper/civilian ballroom dance, I just sat down on the curb and continued to bleed. It turns out that part of my “Joe Rocket” protective jacket, made out of Ballistic Nylon, had been melted to my arm as I slid along the pavement. I did not know that I was now part ‘polymer’ and that when Nylon melts to your skin then have to cut it out. Isn’t that great?

In the end, the old man got a ticket and I got a ride home. The bike is somewhat tore up but he had insurance so I am not worried about getting it fixed up again. Riding is dangerous but cars certainly have the “Right of Weight” even if they do not have the right of way. In all my years of riding I have only been down a few times. It sucks... but I’m glad that I did not need a mortician. The moral of this story? Please, please, please with sugar on top... Look before you decided to pull into traffic. The life you save just might be mine.

10-26-2004