|
The Look Directory
| 
|
|
Subscribe to RSS via e-mail
| Do you like what you see? Get it in your e-mail inbox!
|
|
Latest poll
| How many miles are on your motorcycle? | less than 1,000 |    | 0 | | 1,000-5,000 |    | 1 | | 5,000-10,000 |    | 0 | | 10,000-25,000 |    | 2 | | 25,000-50,000 |    | 1 | | 50,000-100,000 |    | 0 | | 100,000+ | | 0 |
|
| | |
The Great Trailer Debacle
| |
By adrian at 07/03/2008 - 13:18
|
I bought a new trailer a few days ago. Nothing special, just a kit-type trailer that I put together in about an hour or so. This weekend I will begin doing the fun stuff like adding the surface, storage, etc. In the meantime, I have been reflecting on memories of my old trailer, and how it sacrificed everything in the line of duty.
My old trailer was similar to the one I just replaced it with, the only real exception being that this new one is a little more beefy and can carry more payload. Not that it would have made a difference, considering the violent nature of the accident during The Great Trailer Debacle.
I remember the accident very well, which is saying a lot for me because I don't usually remember things. It was Fall 2005 and I was on my way to Texas World Speedway in College Station with my motorcycle in tow. It was a track day, and TWS is my favorite track, so I was pretty excited. The only real stressor that I had in my life at that particular moment was the dude in the seat next to me. One of the guys that I knew from my old texasroadrage website hitched a ride with me to the track while his bike rode in a van with some of the other guys. That old TRR website brought a lot of riders together and introduced a lot of street riders to the race track, and to this day I am still very proud of that. Anyway, this guy riding with me just would not stop talking. He started up the moment we got into the truck and he didn't stop until hours later when we arrived in College Station.
Texas World Speedway was on my left as we went down the interstate, and I was very excited to see her again. There were always rumors about the track being bought out and sold for the land, and I never knew if they were true or not... I was just glad to see the structure looming like a giant outside of the college town and so my spirits always lifted and the excitement of a track day would start to take hold even though we wouldn't actually ride until the next day. I exited the freeway to the right, and took a left on the overpass to cross over to TWS' entrance gate. Now she was in front of me, and the incessant buzz coming out of my co-pilot's mouth faded into the background as I took in the view... man I love that track!
There is one stop sign before the entrance - a look to the right to make sure that there is no feeder road traffic - and then the entrance road where everyone lines up to wait for the gate to open: picture a row of cars and trucks hauling motorcycles in, for a day in the sun learning more about countersteering, leaning, getting off the bike, maintenance throttle, trail braking, and a little knee dragging... so, I stop at the stop sign, look to the right to make sure it is clear, and just as I take my foot off of the brake, I hear the wrenching howl of protesting tires trying desperately to panic stop a vehicle at the owner's behest. I had a split second to realize that the sound was behind me, where my wife was following in her Honda Accord with our children, and then I felt the impact.
Next were the ugly sounds. The sounds of metal yielding to metal, glass spraying and sprinkling the ground. Then my motorcycle, riderless and airborne, passed me by. The impact from my wife ramming the trailer was so great that the trailer jammed under my Toyota Tacoma and my motorcycle launched through the air. My pride and joy, my Honda CBR954RR named Michelle, was now lying in the middle of the intersection, surrounded by glass and broken shards of plastic, glass, and metal.
My wife had been following us to the track and was going to spend the day hanging out with me between sessions. As a thoughtful gesture, she was going to have the entrance fee money ready prior to getting to the gate... she figured we would be pulling right up and going right in. So, while she was driving she reached down in to her purse to fish out some cash, and lost sight of the road and the fact that I was now at a complete stop at the stop sign in front of her. By the time she looked up it was too late.
Before I go too much further: no one was hurt. My kids were fine, Nora was fine, and my co-pilot was fine. Our vehicles were not. The trailer was totaled, Nora's Accord was severely damaged, my CBR was damaged, and my truck lost a new bumper and tailgate and took damage in the bed floor.
As I walked over to the bike I kept my eyes fixed on the hot, stained and littered asphalt road. I didn't want to look at my motorcycle, but I had to. As I lifted her wrecked body off of the road, I was very particular with my words. I didn't want to say anything that would cause regret and pain later, so the most that I could muster for my guilt-stricken wife was a question: I warbled out an almost man-sob-like "Why?"
It is all very humorous now, and my wife loves to mimic the "Why"... she uses lots of overacted passion when she regales our friends with the story... but at the time it was decidedly very unfunny. Luckily with the help of my friends and sympathetic onlookers we were able to piece my bike back together enough so I could ride the track the next day. We had to ditch the trailer and my bike hitched a ride home in some other rider's vehicle, and Nora had to sit up tall in order to see over her car's folded hood but we limped the remains of our vehicles home. I still remember when we called our insurance company to tell them we had an accident: they asked which vehicle and our reply (which was met with dead silence) was, "All of them..."
| | |
|
