Post by happyoldscoot on Dec 5, 2012 20:07:48 GMT -5
I geared up this morning for my twelve mile commute to work with Icon leg armor over my work pants, and a pair of cargo overpants, River-Road boots with 5” tops; a light windbreaker under a Scorpion Commander hi-vis armored jacket, skullcap and full-face Scorpion helmet (kissed my wife good-bye before I stuffed my head into it).
I mounted up, wiggled my fingers into my gloves, fired up the Majesty 400, and rode out into into the pre-dawn darkness to trace the same route I had been following the last three years – a route which made up most of the 22,555 uneventful miles as I graduated from one scoot to another.
Turned right onto a three lane surface street- not much traffic but dark at the sides because of few commercial businesses. I was in lane two and hadn’t worked my way over into the passing lane yet, when, in the middle of the block a woman on a bicycle decided to shoot out across the street. No lights or reflectors on her bike. She wasn’t even LOOKING my way!
Ten feet of braking distance – 35-40 miles an hour – no chance to swerve. Nervertheless, I clamped the brakes and tried to swerve behind her. I brushed her back wheel at about twenty miles an hour, but it didn’t knock her down.
I wasn’t so lucky. I went down, and slid with my Majesty for about 20 feet. I lay crossways on my back in the middle of my lane for a few seconds. It’s amazing how much a shot of adrenaline sharpens the awareness. I looked to my left. A large garbage truck behind blocked the lane so I wouldn’t be run over. I looked to my right. My Majesty lay on its side, still running and well lit. I looked to the other side of the street. The woman bicyclist was up on the sidewalk looking in my direction. Then I tucked the chin bar on my FF helmet as far as I could to check my feet. My left foot pointed straight up. My right foot cocked over at about a 45 degree angle -- not so good.
No one had yet come to see if I was all right. Careful not to move my foot, I stayed on my back and skootched myself to the edge of the street to prop myself up against the curb. By then, people started to arrive.
Results – Ankle broken in 3 places. Several witnesses accurately reported that it was the bicyclist’s fault; etc.
When the police looked for the woman who triggered the whole thing, she – of course – had disappeared.
How did ATGATT protect me? The 5” high-top boots kept my foot and ankle immobile, and possible saved my foot. Fortunately I had opted for lace-up boots with zippered sides. At the hospital I told the nurse to cut the laces and unzip the sides, and the boot came off with little additional pain
The overpants were shredded and torn rather than my skin. The Icon leg armor showed deep scrapes on the hard plastic knee segment rather than my kneecap. The Scorpion armored jacket showed minor scrapes on arms and elbows rather than my having a bad case of road-rash. My helmet visor severely scraped on right front side rather than half my face.
ATGATT? You never need it …..until you NEED it.
I mounted up, wiggled my fingers into my gloves, fired up the Majesty 400, and rode out into into the pre-dawn darkness to trace the same route I had been following the last three years – a route which made up most of the 22,555 uneventful miles as I graduated from one scoot to another.
Turned right onto a three lane surface street- not much traffic but dark at the sides because of few commercial businesses. I was in lane two and hadn’t worked my way over into the passing lane yet, when, in the middle of the block a woman on a bicycle decided to shoot out across the street. No lights or reflectors on her bike. She wasn’t even LOOKING my way!
Ten feet of braking distance – 35-40 miles an hour – no chance to swerve. Nervertheless, I clamped the brakes and tried to swerve behind her. I brushed her back wheel at about twenty miles an hour, but it didn’t knock her down.
I wasn’t so lucky. I went down, and slid with my Majesty for about 20 feet. I lay crossways on my back in the middle of my lane for a few seconds. It’s amazing how much a shot of adrenaline sharpens the awareness. I looked to my left. A large garbage truck behind blocked the lane so I wouldn’t be run over. I looked to my right. My Majesty lay on its side, still running and well lit. I looked to the other side of the street. The woman bicyclist was up on the sidewalk looking in my direction. Then I tucked the chin bar on my FF helmet as far as I could to check my feet. My left foot pointed straight up. My right foot cocked over at about a 45 degree angle -- not so good.
No one had yet come to see if I was all right. Careful not to move my foot, I stayed on my back and skootched myself to the edge of the street to prop myself up against the curb. By then, people started to arrive.
Results – Ankle broken in 3 places. Several witnesses accurately reported that it was the bicyclist’s fault; etc.
When the police looked for the woman who triggered the whole thing, she – of course – had disappeared.
How did ATGATT protect me? The 5” high-top boots kept my foot and ankle immobile, and possible saved my foot. Fortunately I had opted for lace-up boots with zippered sides. At the hospital I told the nurse to cut the laces and unzip the sides, and the boot came off with little additional pain
The overpants were shredded and torn rather than my skin. The Icon leg armor showed deep scrapes on the hard plastic knee segment rather than my kneecap. The Scorpion armored jacket showed minor scrapes on arms and elbows rather than my having a bad case of road-rash. My helmet visor severely scraped on right front side rather than half my face.
ATGATT? You never need it …..until you NEED it.
