BANDITS ACROSS AMERICA - 2001

Suzuki Bandit 1200S

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1 AUGUST

Saw Wilmoed & Femke off at the bus "stop" (aka small clearing on the curb) across from the hostel and headed for breakfast and gas in Crescent City. We hit construction delays on US 199 - the kind where you just sit and sit and it's better to shut off your bike, get off, and walk around talking to the other people waiting to go again. The upside was most of the slow/stop sign holders and lead car/truck drivers were hot young college girls. I don't know if this is a special program unique to California, but it should spread throughout the country - and quickly!

Above, L-R: a snappy-cam "oops"; Wes waiting at a construction stop; a long line of parked cars at another delay

Once into Oregon and off the highway at Medford things began to improve. The air temp started dropping and traffic thinned out. On OR 62 up towards Crater Lake we were finally able to ride at the actual speed limit and have some fun again.

Naturally that's when the roof caved in.

I'd love to be all dramatic and say "the next thing I knew, there was a nurse standing over me saying 'Can you hear me? Do you know what day it is'" but the reality is this: target fixation is a bitch.

We got to a left curve (marked at 35 mph, which we were doing) that changed camber from uphill to downhill about halfway through. An RV or bus (I didn't get a good look) was having a hard time making the curve from the other direction, and Jason adjusted to swing wide away from the massive thing. The change in camber must have messed him up, as he hopped sideways a little (or something) into the soft dirt shoulder, crossed up his front wheel, and FLIPPED.

All I could think was "oh holy shit JASON WRECKED" and the next thing I knew I was in the shoulder too. I grabbed a big fat handful of front brake.

When I stood up I was holding the brake lever in my right hand and my back hurt.

Jason was lying in the ditch and my bike was on top of his, leaking gas (figures). I remember asking him if he was OK but he says I asked him if he could stand up. I saw right away that he was covered with dirt and his helmet was messed up in front.

I took my helmet, gloves, and jacket off. My shit was spread all over the shoulder. Two of the Givi cases lay in the dirt, one open.

3 cars stopped almost right away - 3 couples returning from an Austin-Healy convention. All 3 cars were slick, antique 2-seaters. They helped me, well, I helped THEM get the bikes off each other, out of the ditch, and upright in the dirt-and-gravel shoulder.

By this time, Jason was complaining of a bad headache, so one of the car drivers took him to the Ranger Station. Turns out we were about 200 yards from our destination, the entrance gate to Crater Lake National Park.

Tony and John were the park rangers on the scene. We chatted, I took pictures of the bikes with the snappy camera, and I filled out some paperwork. The flatbed tow truck came from Prospect, driven by a guy named John.

Between the rangers and the tow truck driver, I estimate that the past month had seen 10 bikes and 6 cars or trucks in the same ditch on the same corner. Especially bikes in the few weeks preceding our trip through there - the BMW national club recently had their big annual rally in the area.

It's not so much an off-camber curve as it is a variable-camber curve. We were going 30-35 mph, the posted "safe" speed being 35. The camber is correct (uphill) as the entrance to it begins. As the curve continues, though, there is a dip and the camber switches to incorrect (downhill). It was a combination of the RV (or bus), the dip, and the new camber that tossed Jason into the ditch. It was simple target fixation that put me in it. I was 3, maybe 4 bike lengths behind him and very much focused on his tail end.

The rangers, car club guys & gals, and tow truck driver were all wonderful, genuinely concerned about us and our bikes. We - the tow truck & me - ended up following Jason to the Merle West Medical Center in Klamath Falls, OR. AAA covered the entire tow.

At first glance, I'm pretty sure Jason's bike is totaled. The fairing is smashed to hell, the forks are bent BAD, and there's a lot of other front-end damage. He's also got 2 big rocks jammed between his frame and engine. His saddlebag + duffel bag rig - still attached to the bike, by the way - saved the back of the bike from damage.

My bike fared somewhat better, I think. There are scrapes all over the fairing and windshield. One of my running lights snapped off its mounting arm - still lights up though! The left-side Givi case was destroyed - ripped off the wingrack and ripped open to boot, though it still closes. The right-side case is all smashed in; it still opens and closes but will have to be broken to get it off the wingrack. The top case survived but the mounting plate was snapped right off the wingrack. My tank bag came right off the bike, and my good camera is broken (mirror stuck in the up position). Everything else is covered with a thick layer of Oregon dirt. The Givi rig (cases & wingrack mount) saved me (and the bike) from more damage. Other than the fairing, front fender, and some scratches on the sides of the engine and the muffler, it seems fine and starts right up. I can shift through the gears with no problem. My new tank got one scratch, a deep one on the right side, probably from the tank bag coming off. That the tank was leaking gas showed I installed the overfill drain tube right - on its side like that, the overfill would have been submerged in gas. Plus it stopped flowing as soon as the bike was upright. If not for the broken brake lever (easily replaced) I bet I could have ridden my bike here to the hospital. Not so for Jason.

I got checked out and cleared by the ER staff here at the Merle West Medical Center. Poor Jason was on a backboard for about 4 hours. Not as long as I was after I got ran over, but I definitely know he now understands THAT aspect of what happened to me in 1999.

I was declared fine but for a bit of road rash from my left shoulder down to my butt and some bumps & bruises. The doc said I'd have "the mother of all bruises" on my lower back and boy was she right. Not even 6 hours later and it was purple. I'm sure I have some nasty green & yellow in my future, plus big scabs. Ugh.

The ER staff were awesome. Our nurses were Phil (a fellow biker) and Violet (a real sweetheart). Doctors Holland (a hippie) and Doyle (a very serious fellow) didn't think I even needed x-rays. Dr. Holland also gave me some good advice to help minimize swelling in my bad leg. Debbie & Heather, running the reception desk, were ultra cool. Supervisor Gwen hooked us up with Pharmacist Laurie (who had 800 mg ibuprofen and Vicodin for us both) - and that's not even the BEST PART.

Being banged up, non-locals, and the proud owners of freshly wrecked bikes, we had nowhere to go and no way to get there. Gwen & Violet arranged for us to stay at the Hugh Corrin House. The HCH is part of the hospital's cancer treatment center and has 6 little apartments set up so the families of terminal cancer patients can stay near their dying loved ones without going broke. Thankfully on all counts it was 100% empty.

We ordered pizza, took hot showers, watched TV, and took Vicodin.

Gas Log - 13 July - 14 July - 15 July - 17 July
18 July - 19 July - 20 July - 21 July - 22 July
23 July - 24 July - 26 July - 27 July - 28 July
29 July - 30 July - 31 July - 1 Aug - 2 Aug
3 Aug - 7 Aug - Wrapup

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