Riding to meet the boys at the Blanco Bowling Alley this morning, raining and early. On Ranch Road 32 about 3 miles from 281 doing about 60 mph on straight road the rear end started sliding, I goosed her and corrected, the rear end slid the other way, goosed her and corrected and she swapped ends. It was just like being on ice, no control and we went down.
We were both sliding backwards on the road, I kicked away from her, saw the grass was coming closs so I crossed my arms. Hit the grass and tumbled a few times, kicked away from her again and ended up on my back about five feet from her, both of us pointing backwards.
Moved my toes, wiggled my fingers, took a couple of breaths, no pain, so I sits up. That went well, so I stood up. Success so far, so I did a little walking. Felt some pain in the right ankle and left ribs, but nothing debilitating.
Many cars and pickups went by, I sat next to barbara for a minute to think. Finally, a lady stops. We're out in the middle of nowhere, a crashed bike, a rider and the only person who stops is a lady. Granted, she's a country gal and could prolly kick my ass on my best day, but what a sweetie.
She calls the authorities and about 10 minutes later, not one, but three bambulances show up. I tell them I'm fine, but they insist that I step into a bambulance. I ask how much is that gonna cost me and they start laughing and tell me they want out of the rain and it isn't gonna cost me nada. So, they take my info and spit me out just as a sheriff shows up.
He asks me into his car, I'm wet and muddy, but he tells me there's been worse and go on in. I tell him I'm not carrying, give him my paperwork and we sit there and chat while he runs me and he fills out paperwork.
barbara is on an incline on her right side (she never flipped or tumbled, to which I attribute to the wet), pointing down, there is no way I can pick her up, but I do get the trunk open, everything falls out, I get my cell and call Dick and Sandy. Dick offers me a ride beyotch, which I decline and which makes the sheriff chuckle and Sandy is on her way.
A State Trooper shows up, works the accident and attributes it oil in the road. He said he would've wrote me up if it was in a corner, but on a straight run and by the marks in the road, I wasn't speeding or riding at an unsafe speed.
A wrecker shows up, not a flat bed, but the only one around in the galaxy, so I would presume. It takes all three of us to pick her up, which was fun and muddy. The right side is scratched, mirror gone, handle bar folded under at the throttle.
Sandy shows up and we go to the emergency room in New Braunfels. Sprained right ankle and bruised ribs. They give me a scrip for hydrocodone or something like that, which I'm not gonna take and set me loose.
The bike is being picked up by Lone Star, I'm laying in bed doing the RICE thang and it still be raining outside.
I did miss a good breaky at the Blanco Bowling Alley and I'm sure lunch was fun, too. Que sera, sera.
I was wearing First Gear riding pants, a Joe Rocket Ballistic jacket, Z-Teknic boots, Thurlow deer skin gloves and an Arai 3/4 helmet. Not one centimeter of road rash.
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