WARNING: some of the images are of the injury I suffered from the accident (read below) and may not be suitable for you if you have a weak stomach.
As my introductory story, I will share my recent Harley motorcycle story, hence the title of this post.
I knew I wanted a Harley Davidson motorcycle last year and drove to the dealer and saw this.
It was the entry level Harley but that’s the one I wanted because it had a liquid-cooled engine, unlike most Harleys, and a muffled sound, also unlike most Harleys. And the price was low enough so I wouldn’t feel like a douche getting one.
The salesman at the dealer, a very nice guy who I became friends with, said I needed a motorcycle endorsement on my license, which I didn’t have, to be able to ride it. I had a motorcycle more than ten years ago, but any motorcycle license I had then has since expired. In order to get the endorsement, I had to take the motorcycle safety course.
So I did.
Day one of the motorcycle safety course.
As you can see, it was a beautiful day.
Day two of the motorcycle safety course. Both days were perfect-weather days.
Practicing going over obstacles.
The students in the motorcycle safety course. I’m the one on the right. Only one guy crashed during the course. No, it wasn’t me. But that guy passed anyway since he didn’t crash during the actual testing.
I recently moved back in with my parents, after being away from them for more than 20 years, so they, as expected, hated the idea of me getting a motorcycle. My idea to tackle this obstacle was to get it anyway and not tell them. Of course they would find out after I got it, but then I’d already have it.
Here is the bike being delivered.
And here it is in the driveway. I didn’t like the blue one that much so got the black one instead.
I would drive it everywhere and in all weather conditions. I was a very safe driver and knew the bike could handle rainy days. I took pics of it in lots of different places.
I had the Harley for all of two months, then this is what happened one early morning on my way to work. I think this infographic I made explains it better than words.
It was an old lady. It seemed like she wasn’t even looking. Maybe she was drowsy from medication or something—I don’t know. The rear of the bike was hit and I flew off and rolled on the highway for a while until finally stopping in the grass on the side of the road.
Everything hurt; lower back, hips, elbows, but my left leg hurt the most, especially at the ankle.
There was a lot of traffic because everyone was on their way to work. A couple of cars immediately pulled over on the side of the road to assist me. They were very helpful and waited with me until the ambulance arrived.
They took me to the emergency room of the nearest hospital.
Rebecca, the RN in the picture, took very good care of me. It was the most physical pain I’ve ever experienced in my life. They had me heavily medicated for the pain during my seven hour stay in the emergency room. I couldn’t have any water or anything the entire time because the doctor said they might have to operate due to the pain in my lower back. I was so thirsty. I think I was saying a lot of incoherent stuff and might have hit on one of the nurses at one point—I don’t remember.
The x-rays and CAT scans came back and the result was two fractures in the left ankle. Everything else was just bruised and scraped. Road rash. Now I know what the term means. They had me try crutches. It was the first time in my life I’ve used crutches. I took two steps and had to sit down. Then I immediately vomited. That was embarrassing.
I finally got home and was stuck to the bed for weeks. My brother came and changed the bandages every few days. He’s a doctor, so he knew what he was doing.
This one is of the road rash on my right butt cheek. Wasn’t able to get pics of all the road rash everywhere else. And the one after that is of one of my elbows-luckily nothing was broken there.
My elbow bandages came off, leaving some scars. They have since healed to almost undetectable levels.
Luckily, the fractures on the ankle would heal without the need for surgery. I was in a brace for the first month, because the swelling had to go down before the cast could go on.
Then the cast was on for two months. I don’t have a pic of the actual cast, but it was bright blue. You never think about what people go through when they have a cast, until it happens to you.
Over the next several weeks, lying in bed and dreaming of better days, I had lots of time to think. Much too much to be considered healthy. Coming up with weird theories about life and the universe, I started writing notes for a fantasy book then realized that all of life is a fantasy—an illusion.
It was a weird time.
By the way, the motorcycle was totaled. The insurance adjuster said that after seeing the condition of the bike, he was surprised that I was still alive. Lucky, I guess.
It was approaching the day when the cast was to come off. The foot suffered some extreme dry skin under the cast.
I did some research and tried a remedy of coconut oil. I just rubbed in it for about five minutes and the result was a big improvement.
When the cast came off, this is what the foot looked like.
After the cast, I was put in a boot.
The boot was annoying, especially when I had to wear it all day at work. It left indentions on my leg when I took it off.
There was lots of skin that I peeled off.
Eventually, I was down to a medical shoe to help stabilize the ankle while walking.
Because I was in bed for so long, the injury to the knee was not taken seriously since I wasn’t walking much. Walking shouldn’t be as painful as it was considering the ankle was mostly healed. So I had an MRI done on the knee.
The results were not good.
Damage to the ACL and PCL, which was confirmed by the surgeon. Now I have a surgery scheduled for next month. Not looking forward to it. I did a month of physical therapy which was mildly successful. According to the surgeon, it will take nine months of physical therapy to see results.
Still limping, awaiting surgery, and this is all I have left of my Harley motorcycle—a complimentary subscription to H.O.G. magazine.
So the moral of the story is: If you ride a motorcycle in the United States, expect to get hit at some point. Seriously, people just don't look for them, unlike in other countries. Some drivers actually hate bikers and purposely try to cut them off. I've seen it happen. Not to mention the stoplights, but sometimes the sensors don't even pick up the motorcycle and you have to sit there until a car comes and activates the sensor or just run the light and take your chances--not that I'm condoning running the light.
On the positive side, I was happy every second I was riding one. The joy and freedom of riding a motorcycle can never be matched by any car.
I didn’t write this to depress you. I’m a writer, so that’s why I wrote this. I’ve read that people like personal stories on Steemit. This is one of my personal stories. I’ve lived an interesting life and have lots of personal stories. I was a hedge fund manager, a fugitive, and a federal prisoner—so more stories upcoming. All true, by the way.
#introduceyourself #Harley #motorcycle #injury #graphic #ankle #broken