A Motorbiking saga in two parts
Part Two – Cascading Mistakes Prompt Early Exit
The “Big Summer Tour 2009” route plan included one funky collection of roads in Montana that would lead from the Little Big Horn battlefield to Red Lodge, a welcome night in the KOA campground and a next day ride across the Bear Tooth Highway and into Yellowstone National Park. But that was not to be.
Readers of this blog have realized by now that I don’t typically write in first person, but this one time (I hope) I’m going to break with tradition, because there really is no other way to tell this particular part of the story.
So, I rode all the way from Thermopolis, Wyoming, to the Little Big Horn fueled only by the wonderfully greasy and delicious breakfast I had in Greybull. I assumed there would be some kind of food (and air conditioning) at the national monument. There was neither. Mistake number one.
Because it was ungodly hot, I rushed through my tour of the monument and forgot to take a break – you know, sit in the shade, drink some water, take it easy. Mistake number two.
The little mini-mart at the Little Big Horn looked pretty unappetizing, so I assumed there would be someplace to eat in the next town, Crow Agency. Mistake number three.
I had chosen a route from Crow Agency to Red Lodge that was pretty obscure and most likely would include some unimproved roads. The names of the roads should have been a clue. I took the Crow St. X cutoff to State Road 313 to the Prior St. Xavier Highway, where, as predicted, it turned into Prior Road – a pea-sized gravel ranch road. Mistake number five.
So, now I’m really tired, really hungry and really thirsty. Add on top of that the fact that I got hit right in the breastbone by a honeybee at 80 m.p.h near the little burg of St. Xavier. The little buzzer amazingly survived the impact and crawled around in my jacket stinging me at least once in the middle of the chest. It was several minutes before I figured out what the heck was happening, get to a stop and do the wacky “I got a bee in my jacket” dance. Should’ve taken a break right then, but didn’t. Mistake number four. As I rode Edgar Road all was going well, the gravel was loose and dusty but in pretty good shape and in my addled mind I could see a glistening Tasty Freeze in the little town of Edgar just a few miles ahead – mmmmm ice cream treats. Daydreaming; mistake number six.
As I approached Edgar I came down a hill, going 35-40 mph, standing up on the pegs. At the bottom of the hill I hit a patch of deep gravel and the rear tire on my 2006 R1200GS washed out right. I counter-steered, but not enough and the tire washed out left, just a little bigger. Mistake number seven.
Instead of giving it a bit of gas, I rolled off the power just a bit, and it made my loss-of-traction issue even more serious. Mistake number eight.
The rear tire oscillated back to the right, at a much higher wavelength this time. I tried to get my weight back and up on top of that rear tire, but it was too little too late. Mistake number nine.
The tire whipped back left and the bike went down hard on its right side as I did my best to do a standard “dirt bike get off” but I slammed into the road on my right side, skidding head first as my helmet filled with light brown dust and gravel. I don’t know if I lost consciousness or not, at the time I didn’t think so, but it was such a remote landing site that there were no other vehicles or witnesses, so I really have no way of knowing. To me it seemed that I instantly got up and began to assess the damages to both myself and the motorbike, but I could have been out for some time.
Happily, my Aerostich combat-lite riding boots and Roadcrafter jacket performed as advertised. My Nolan helmet was essentially totaled, but my face was untouched. Later I’d discover quite a nice “hangman’s” bruise on my neck from the chinstrap, and I’d develop a black right eye, but other than that the helmet performed very well. No cuts, no blood, no broken bones. No mistakes made here. I was going to be sore, though, and black and blue all over.
So, I figured I’d grunt the motorbike up on its wheels and be on my way. Unfortunately, my beloved GS was down for the count. Headlight and instrument cluster totaled. The front fork and the handlebar were decidedly out of alignment; seriously bent. The right side cylinder head was cracked and leaking oil – its protective crash bar bent all the way back and broken at the welds. No point in even trying to start it.Even though I was about six miles from Edgar, there was good cell phone coverage. After dialing 911 I had about a ten-minute wait for the arrival of a Montana State Trooper. The motorbike was eventually hauled to a U-Haul rental place where it could be loaded for the long ride home inside the truck’s box.
These are the moments when you find out who your friends really are. One of mine dropped everything and flew from Santa Fe to Billings the next day to help me drive the bent and broken BMW back to its final resting place. That same friend would come to the aid of my frightened wife when I developed a fairly common concussion-related syndrome one week later that would land me in the hospital for four days.
My medical malady turned out to be something called “syndrome of inappropriate anti-diuretic hormone secretion” or SIADH, and I’d advise anyone who has experienced even a minor concussion or blow to the head to be on the lookout for this particular reaction, also known as “hponatremia,” because it’s pretty freaky and, in my experience, hard to diagnose.
Happy Ending
Exactly one month after the Montana crash I took possession of a new 2009 R1200GS Adventure. My State Farm Insurance agent (also an avid rider) did an amazing job guiding me through the claims process for my totaled ’06, paving the way for the purchase of the GSA. Now all I have to do is remain patient through the long, long, snowy winter until the 2010 riding season starts – so I can go on the next tour, and finish one this time.
