The following write-up has been used by permission of the author, a motorcycle instructor out in California. I read this on the Long Distance Riders internet forum I belong to. I felt it would be beneficial to Chapter members to possibly learn something from others mistakes.

Scott

Medium Version:
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On Monday, August 22, at about 4:30 pm, a light color generic car was traveling northbound on Ninth Street about 20-25 mph in the second lane from the right. My 1988 BMW R100RT was in the right lane, approximately even with the car's rear bumper at a slightly slower speed. As the car reached the intersection with Mission Street, the driver turned right, without slowing, without signaling, without warning, and most certainly without looking.

I executed immediate avoidance, but had less than 10 feet to maneuver. Both brakes then swerve left. I actually avoided impacting the car but may have just clipped the bumper. The traction pie was eaten. The bike went down on its left side, striking at maybe 5 mph. Very little skid, but I was thrown off and forward on my left shoulder. Instinctively trying to "ball up", I curled to roll with the shoulder. But the strike was too flat and my collarbone broke in three places. Then the slam on my back was cushioned by the genetically designed energy absorbing crumple zone of eight ribs fracturing.

The car completed its turn and went on ... except the driver realized what happened and later turned around and came back. Witnesses were ready to pounce on the driver, but a motorcycle cop was less than a block away and took control.

Meanwhile I am sitting in the intersection having just done the "what wiggles" triage (see: Short Version) and decided to call home. Yes, I sat in traffic using a cell phone. That over, I crawled to the curb while others picked up the bike, I instructed them on gas/ignition off, and the driver informed me she was so sorry because she is a hospital nurse and knows the pain I'm in.

Hey, you know people say things to try to be comforting even if the actual effect is the opposite. But all I could respond is "thank you for stopping". If shouting didn't hurt, I might have been tempted to be a little more expressive.

Paramedics arrived. Nurse thinks she knows pain? These guys know pain! And do they ever dish it out. Neck brace, backboard, throw the meat sack on the gurney, and: Trauma Whiskers code 2, ETA 1 min 30.

Long Version:
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Most accidents occur within 25 miles of home, but I don't want to move.

I am a certified motorcycle safety rider coach. I believe in the program. I practice the skills every ride, every time. Recognizing risks is the best, first, biggest step in avoiding them. Lucky me, I know exactly what happened.

I frequently take 9th Street home in the afternoon because it is one of the very few smooth flow northerly cross town roads. Due to many one-ways, there are only two right turns off 9th south of Market, at Folsom and at

Mission. This makes the right lane the best for flow through - except at those corners. As I approach each corner, I always do the scan for potential turners: too far to the right, slowing speed or slower speed than other lanes, wavering in lane, "uncertain" driving, looking for street names, and so forth. I also generally try to avoid being directly beside a car when entering an intersection.

In this case, I had done all the scans. Absolutely no indication of intent by the driver. Steady speed, good position, controlled motion. Clear. Still, my discomfort factor of being beside the car caused me to back off with a slight trailing throttle, ongoing but not maintaining speed. I also positioned myself just right of the lane center to give maximum space choice if needed.

When my front tire reached the crosswalk, the car made a same-speed right turn from the lane to my left across my path into Mission. I had about one lane width, or about 10 feet to react.

From having done many many practice stops in riding course demonstrations and on my own riding, I knew that was not enough room to stop a bike going 20 mph. But I could not just swerve at speed, because the arc of the car was closing the space I needed to escape. So I hit both brakes HARD and let up. Officer later said there were two skid marks. Releasing the brakes, I healed over into strong left swerve. The bike literally jumped sideways, moving from right of center to 2 or 3 inches from the left edge of the lane. I cleared the edge of the car bumper by a whisker, but the lurch was too aggressive and the road surface was too crowned where the intersection met. I could not get the front back up to counter swerve, and the bike went down. Officer later measured 17 feet into intersection. Average straight line, good surface, controlled rapid stop from 20 mph is about 23 feet. I done ok, considering.

Knowing the bike was going down, I relaxed rather than tensed. Not the time for a tight grip. When it hit, I more slid forward than fell off, cleanly separating. It was only a short time, but it is an interesting and unique sound to hear a helmet grinding its way into pavement. Comforting, in a way.

The medium version above described my self-triage. Being trained in first aid, I also did the A B C survey, and came up with only the shoulder as a problem. Feeling for blood, none. Punctures, none. Shards, none. OK, definitely not going to hail a cab with the left arm, so I asked a bystander to call 911.

Now let's review.

That's cruel.

There were three people attending to me at the scene, two from the ambulance and a paramedic from a fire truck. The paramedic who did the immediate check and then took off my helmet was excellent. He really knew how to open the flip face and remove the helmet without any wrong pressure. Compliments! However, the doofus from the ambulance who decided to brace and board me (procedure, you know) even though the paramedic declared no neck or spine involvement, well I'd like to meet him again too but not for compliments. Picture where a neck COLLAR brace is supposed to rest to support the neck. Picture where a collar bone is broken. Nope, can't loosen it procedure, you know. I managed to force it off the neck anyway. We had some "words" about it, then he prepared to run a saline line, which I asked him to wait until we got to the ER for two reasons (long history of small veins and too much bouncing on streets). He tried lecturing me on how once you call 911 you are no longer in control and you should just let the procedures happen. Wrongo, as long as I am conscious I can accept or decline. I simply said he did not have my permission for any procedure and began counting bumps while he lectured on. When he asked 'procedure' do-you-know-where-you-are, I said 8th and Harrison, which made the driver laugh because he was indeed turning onto Harrison.

Oh, and Trauma Whiskers? Inbound patients are given nicknames in case they cannot speak on arrival. Next letter was W, but they do not use military alphabet. Trauma Xerox arrived beside me.

Two days in SF General to watch for lung bruises. Four to eight weeks of pain management at home. Rough guess, $2000 bike damage.