Caspice
Well travelled
- Location
- Here and There
Some of the following is drawn from the few bits I remember, and some as told to me by those who witnessed other portions.
I had just finished work on a sunny Thursday afternoon way back in 1989. That Friday was a day off and I had a paycheck in hand. I mounted and started my motorcycle; a Yamaha Maxim 400. This was prior to the mandatory helmet law in that State, and though I had a helmet with me, had not put it on. Being a smoker back then, wearing a full-face helmet prevented enjoying a cigarette while riding and I had just lit another ‘nail’.
Before I could put the motorcycle in gear and ride off, my co-worker and friend punched me in the face. It wasn’t a full power punch but hard enough to knock the cigarette out of my mouth. I asked why (WTF) he hit me. He told me to finish the cigarette then leave, after putting on my helmet. He was also a smoker but strongly believed in wearing a helmet. His father was still alive that day thanks to wearing a helmet. So, after finishing my smoke, I put on my helmet and rode up to the stop sign at the end of the street. I then proceeded to turn left and rode down the hill to the stop sign at the next road. I remember looking right, then left, and turning right out on to the main road. There was a shopping strip located immediately along that section of road.
………………………………………………………………………………
Upon waking, I found myself in a strange bed in a strange room with a big window providing a view of dismal gray rainy sky. My head felt like it had been used for batting practice. To say I was confused and disoriented is an understatement. I attempted to sit up and quickly discovered that my left arm was strapped to my torso, my left leg was in a brace, tubes were sticking out of right arm, sensors attached to my chest, a bruise the size of a large grapefruit on the upper thigh of my right leg up into my groin, and I was in a tremendous amount of pain.
Unsure of where I was, how I got there, or what had happened to me, I was determined to get up and find out. Standing was not a successful endeavor and I stumbled clumsily out of the bed catching myself on what I realized was an IV stand. Using the IV stand for support I made my way to the window. I saw roof tops and a large parking lot. At that moment I heard a female voice behind me exclaim in a shocked tone “My God! What are you doing standing up? You aren’t supposed to be able walk. Get back in bed.” I turned around and saw a woman dressed in a nursing outfit with a panicked look on her face.
“Where the hell am I?”
The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and seeing a friend’s father standing in the room.
The next time I opened my eyes I saw my Aunt. I remember her going a tad ballistic on the nursing staff. She was a Nurse Practitioner and not happy with the level of care I was receiving.
Of all the injuries I sustained, a partial/green-stick fracture of my left clavicle was immediately problematic. About a week after getting out of the hospital, during a dream of the collision, I raised both of my arms to cover my face and woke up to the sound of a “snap" and “arrgghh!” Realizing I was sitting in a recliner in another friend’s parents’ basement, I passed out. Upon waking in the morning, I discovered that I no longer had a partially fractured clavicle but a completely fractured clavicle. No additional medical care provided. It healed back together crooked and some of my shoulder/neck ligaments are not exactly where there were when I was born. Really messed up golf swing.
The missing part of the story…?
The younger sister of a guy I’ve known since grammar school had recently obtained her driver's license. She was heading up the road and was in a hurry to get into the shopping strip parking lot. Seeing a car coming the other way (but not me) she stomped on the accelerator pedal in her GM G body type 2-door car and drove directly into me. The impact may have halted the forward motion of the motorcycle, but it sent me right up the motorcycle’s gas tank, and after my right thigh bent the handlebar out of the way, I was sent flying through the air.
I have often heard - it’s not the fall that kills people but the sudden halt at the end.
A young woman named Teri was working at the hair salon located in that shopping strip. She heard the impact and looked out the window just in time to see my body flying through air. She was mortified when I impacted the asphalt. She told me that I did not bounce or slide. I just hit the street with an audible thud. She was the first one to me, and thankfully had a boyfriend that taught her to never ever try to remove a downed rider's helmet. She was able to raise the visor of my now broken full-faced helmet and what greeted her convinced her that I was dead. She said my eyes were wide open, unblinking, and I was not breathing, just lying motionless in the street like a corpse.
I do not know how much time passed before I took a huge deep breath, but she said she sat next to me crying for what seemed like a few minutes. Scared the heck out of her when I started moving. And though I do not remember her full name, I am thankful that she was there and stayed with me until they loaded me in the ambulance. She told me during a visit with her after I got out of hospital that when the paramedics arrived, I got combative with them. I was telling them to back off and leave me the F#@$ alone. I apparently said (according to Teri) “I don’t feel good right now. I am gonna to get up, go sit on the curb, smoke a cigarette, and go home. I have tomorrow off.”
We argued back and forth a bit and I guess I got tired of being told to lay still. Teri said that I was using my right arm to try and push the paramedics away and being unsuccessful I balled up my right fist and got one of the guys under the chin. Laid the poor guy out. After that they said “Fine - get up.” And I tried to get up only to experience a rush of pain that caused me to pass out. Now unconscious again, the paramedics cut off my clothes to finish performing a field assessment. After getting me strapped to a backboard and onto a stretcher I was taken to the emergency room of the local Hospital.
I heard from others that they heard me yell in pain and then they saw me collapse back down onto the road. “Yep, that guy is dead” was the story.
My brothers said I was an irritating broken record in the emergency room. I would regain consciousness and repeat the same questions: “Where am I? What happened? Why am I strapped down? What time is it? Where’s my bike?” And then I pass out every time I decided that I wanted no part of what was going on and tried to get up.
There are still a lot of aspects of the events, not just from that day, but a few weeks prior and many months after that still I do not recall. But a memory that is crystal clear was getting out the hospital. Since the paramedics had cut off all my clothes, I was wearing a hospital gown, a pair of hospital pants with the left leg cut off to accommodate the brace, and hospital socks. I could not use crutches because my left arm was strapped to my torso due to the collar bone injury, so a cane served as a walking aide.
One of my friends had picked me up from the hospital and was in the process of driving me back to his parents' house when I insisted on seeing my motorcycle. My friend accommodated my request and drove to the wrecking yard where my bike was taken. Leaning heavily on the cane, I hobble into the yard’s office. The guy behind the counter looked up at me and after assessing the visual before him, managed to muster “can I help you?”
“I want to see my bike. It was brought in on Thursday”
The guy’s face went a little pale when he stammered “t-t-that guy died… You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Well, I came back. I’m pissed off and in a lot of pain. Where’s my bike?”
And that is the story of my reported death.
A few photos of my wrecked motorcycle
I had just finished work on a sunny Thursday afternoon way back in 1989. That Friday was a day off and I had a paycheck in hand. I mounted and started my motorcycle; a Yamaha Maxim 400. This was prior to the mandatory helmet law in that State, and though I had a helmet with me, had not put it on. Being a smoker back then, wearing a full-face helmet prevented enjoying a cigarette while riding and I had just lit another ‘nail’.
Before I could put the motorcycle in gear and ride off, my co-worker and friend punched me in the face. It wasn’t a full power punch but hard enough to knock the cigarette out of my mouth. I asked why (WTF) he hit me. He told me to finish the cigarette then leave, after putting on my helmet. He was also a smoker but strongly believed in wearing a helmet. His father was still alive that day thanks to wearing a helmet. So, after finishing my smoke, I put on my helmet and rode up to the stop sign at the end of the street. I then proceeded to turn left and rode down the hill to the stop sign at the next road. I remember looking right, then left, and turning right out on to the main road. There was a shopping strip located immediately along that section of road.
………………………………………………………………………………
Upon waking, I found myself in a strange bed in a strange room with a big window providing a view of dismal gray rainy sky. My head felt like it had been used for batting practice. To say I was confused and disoriented is an understatement. I attempted to sit up and quickly discovered that my left arm was strapped to my torso, my left leg was in a brace, tubes were sticking out of right arm, sensors attached to my chest, a bruise the size of a large grapefruit on the upper thigh of my right leg up into my groin, and I was in a tremendous amount of pain.
Unsure of where I was, how I got there, or what had happened to me, I was determined to get up and find out. Standing was not a successful endeavor and I stumbled clumsily out of the bed catching myself on what I realized was an IV stand. Using the IV stand for support I made my way to the window. I saw roof tops and a large parking lot. At that moment I heard a female voice behind me exclaim in a shocked tone “My God! What are you doing standing up? You aren’t supposed to be able walk. Get back in bed.” I turned around and saw a woman dressed in a nursing outfit with a panicked look on her face.
“Where the hell am I?”
The next thing I remember was opening my eyes and seeing a friend’s father standing in the room.
The next time I opened my eyes I saw my Aunt. I remember her going a tad ballistic on the nursing staff. She was a Nurse Practitioner and not happy with the level of care I was receiving.
Of all the injuries I sustained, a partial/green-stick fracture of my left clavicle was immediately problematic. About a week after getting out of the hospital, during a dream of the collision, I raised both of my arms to cover my face and woke up to the sound of a “snap" and “arrgghh!” Realizing I was sitting in a recliner in another friend’s parents’ basement, I passed out. Upon waking in the morning, I discovered that I no longer had a partially fractured clavicle but a completely fractured clavicle. No additional medical care provided. It healed back together crooked and some of my shoulder/neck ligaments are not exactly where there were when I was born. Really messed up golf swing.
The missing part of the story…?
The younger sister of a guy I’ve known since grammar school had recently obtained her driver's license. She was heading up the road and was in a hurry to get into the shopping strip parking lot. Seeing a car coming the other way (but not me) she stomped on the accelerator pedal in her GM G body type 2-door car and drove directly into me. The impact may have halted the forward motion of the motorcycle, but it sent me right up the motorcycle’s gas tank, and after my right thigh bent the handlebar out of the way, I was sent flying through the air.
I have often heard - it’s not the fall that kills people but the sudden halt at the end.
A young woman named Teri was working at the hair salon located in that shopping strip. She heard the impact and looked out the window just in time to see my body flying through air. She was mortified when I impacted the asphalt. She told me that I did not bounce or slide. I just hit the street with an audible thud. She was the first one to me, and thankfully had a boyfriend that taught her to never ever try to remove a downed rider's helmet. She was able to raise the visor of my now broken full-faced helmet and what greeted her convinced her that I was dead. She said my eyes were wide open, unblinking, and I was not breathing, just lying motionless in the street like a corpse.
I do not know how much time passed before I took a huge deep breath, but she said she sat next to me crying for what seemed like a few minutes. Scared the heck out of her when I started moving. And though I do not remember her full name, I am thankful that she was there and stayed with me until they loaded me in the ambulance. She told me during a visit with her after I got out of hospital that when the paramedics arrived, I got combative with them. I was telling them to back off and leave me the F#@$ alone. I apparently said (according to Teri) “I don’t feel good right now. I am gonna to get up, go sit on the curb, smoke a cigarette, and go home. I have tomorrow off.”
We argued back and forth a bit and I guess I got tired of being told to lay still. Teri said that I was using my right arm to try and push the paramedics away and being unsuccessful I balled up my right fist and got one of the guys under the chin. Laid the poor guy out. After that they said “Fine - get up.” And I tried to get up only to experience a rush of pain that caused me to pass out. Now unconscious again, the paramedics cut off my clothes to finish performing a field assessment. After getting me strapped to a backboard and onto a stretcher I was taken to the emergency room of the local Hospital.
I heard from others that they heard me yell in pain and then they saw me collapse back down onto the road. “Yep, that guy is dead” was the story.
My brothers said I was an irritating broken record in the emergency room. I would regain consciousness and repeat the same questions: “Where am I? What happened? Why am I strapped down? What time is it? Where’s my bike?” And then I pass out every time I decided that I wanted no part of what was going on and tried to get up.
There are still a lot of aspects of the events, not just from that day, but a few weeks prior and many months after that still I do not recall. But a memory that is crystal clear was getting out the hospital. Since the paramedics had cut off all my clothes, I was wearing a hospital gown, a pair of hospital pants with the left leg cut off to accommodate the brace, and hospital socks. I could not use crutches because my left arm was strapped to my torso due to the collar bone injury, so a cane served as a walking aide.
One of my friends had picked me up from the hospital and was in the process of driving me back to his parents' house when I insisted on seeing my motorcycle. My friend accommodated my request and drove to the wrecking yard where my bike was taken. Leaning heavily on the cane, I hobble into the yard’s office. The guy behind the counter looked up at me and after assessing the visual before him, managed to muster “can I help you?”
“I want to see my bike. It was brought in on Thursday”
The guy’s face went a little pale when he stammered “t-t-that guy died… You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Well, I came back. I’m pissed off and in a lot of pain. Where’s my bike?”
And that is the story of my reported death.
A few photos of my wrecked motorcycle
