Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

WEAR YOUR GEAR!

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

    WEAR YOUR GEAR!

    view full article at:
    http://www.speedfreakinc.com/content...rashqueen.html

    You've all probably seen this by now, but read it again and pass it along. Remind yourselves that it only has to happen once. And everyone will go down. The question is not "if" but "when." The most important question then becomes, "am I dressed for the crash?"

    from www.speedfreakinc.com

    Extreme Roadrash: Cause, Effect, and Lesson Learned
    Published: October 4, 2006
    By: Brittany Morrow

    A while back, the Speedfreak staff was cruising the internet, when we came upon a photograph. A pretty blonde girl in a topless photo. But wait…what’s more? The pretty girl is covered in road rash. Speedfreak went on the search to find out the story of this girl, how it happened, what’s rumors and what’s truth. With some searching of the internet, we were able to track down our girl, and Speedfreak had the chance to sit down and find out the true story of how a strong soul bounces back from near death.

    ONE YEAR HAS PASSED

    It’s hard to look in the mirror and think that my scars are already anentire year old. Touching my stomach and rib cage, I can’t imagine looking this way and feeling this pain for the rest of my life. I still feel as if at any moment I will wake up from this terrible dream and be comfortable in my own skin once again. Knowing that it’s real, that there is nothing I can do to change it, I am remindedof my mistakes every minute of everyday. I am also reminded how lucky I am to be alive as I close my eyes and remember why I still feel pain after an entire year of healing. Imagining that if I hadnot survived the accident, I wouldn’t have anything to touch at all, I smile when my fingers run over a thick layer of scar tissue in place of my once soft skin. I know my life has a purpose, and I strive everyday to live up to the task that has been placed at my feet.

    THE ACCIDENT

    It was a beautiful Sunday morning even through my blurred vision. I was on the back of my friend Shaun’s GSXR 750 and was excited to be on a sport bike, even if it was as a passenger, after a long streak of no riding whatsoever. I had shed my prescription glasses for a pair of sunglasses, my cowboy hat for an oversized helmet, and quickly thrown on a pair of capri jeans, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt over my bikini. I thought nothing of the fact that I had practically no protection against the asphalt if anything were to happen. I figured that we couldn’t get into a wreck, it simply wouldn’t happen to me. It’s amazing how fast life came at me that day.

    Approaching mile marker seven on highway 550, I noticed that I had to start fighting the wind to stay behind Shaun without pulling on him too much. I placed my hands on the gas tank and pushed myself into him as much as possible without crowding him. As we came around to the right and went down the hill, we kept accelerating. I was scared, but thought I could handle the force of the wind as it suddenly picked up much more than in the moments before. I started to slide back on the seat and felt the cool air fill the small space between my chest and Shaun’s back.

    I felt a rush of wind hit my face like a brick and our bodies separated in an instant; my visor had come completely open. The force pulled on my face and helmet so hard that it sent my head up and backwards, ripping my entire body off the back seat with it. I remember thinking that if I grabbed Sean’s t-shirt I would pull him down with me, but it was already too late to try and grab a hold of him. I was only in the air for a spilt second, but an eternity of thoughts ran through my mind. I had no idea what excessive speed I was about to hit the ground at or the damage it would do to my body, I just thought about how my life had led to that point. I remembered the basics of surviving a fall from a horse without injury, which I had done a few times in the previous year, and simply let myself go. I knew there was nothing else I could do.

    When I hit the ground, it was as if every breath I had ever taken rushed out of me in an instant. I could feel every inch of my body hitting the road; tumbling, sliding and grinding into the unforgiving surface. In my helmet, which seemed so small and yet completely empty, I could hear my whimpers as I fought to breath and my prayer to God as I gave into the asphault. In a matter of seconds, I had come to the conclusion that I was going to die, and I was ok with it. I knew this was far worse than anything I had ever gone through and I was convinced I would not live to see the next day. My eyes were closed as I finished my 522 foot tumble down highway 550. I never lost consciousness, but I remember wishing that I had.

    At first I couldn’t feel anything. A few moments passed before anyone was at my side, and I had the chance to try and move myself. Immediately, I could tell that I had lost my left shoe as my toes were burning on the hot road. My right foot felt stiff, completely unmovable, and I thought it was probably broken. I noticed that my knees were uncovered when the little pieces of what I thought were gravel scraped against my skin, only to find out later that they were my actual kneecaps grinding against the pavement below them. My right arm was trapped underneath me and my shoulder felt hot. My left pinky was the most noticeable pain in those first few minutes, a throbbing and stabbing pain, as it bled profusely right in front of my face. I could smell my blood as it pooled beneath me on the road.

    By the time the ambulance came and rolled me onto my back, removed my helmet, and called the helicopter, I felt as if I had been cooking on the street for hours. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire; tingling, scorching, and burning. I had not gone into shock, and the adrenaline had worn off almost instantly. Not being able to move was the worst of it. I wanted to pull my arm out from underneath me. I wanted to get off that hot road. I wanted the sun to stop shining so brightly on my naked back. I wanted everything to just go away. But it didn’t. The people who sat on that road with me and came to my rescue saved my life. I wanted to die, but they wouldn’t let me give up, they wouldn’t let me close my eyes and go to sleep.

    The helicopter ride was fast. The morphine had kicked in just around the time we landed at the hospital, and the rest is somewhat of a blur. I remember hearing a doctor saying I had lost my entire left breast. I remember another asking me if my family had been called. A third doctor asked if she could take pictures of my wounds for documentation. When it came time to clean off my skin, the doctors decided that a surgical debreedment of the dead tissue was necessary, along with invasive repair to my pinky, right big toe, and left side from hip to armpit. I don’t even remember being put under, and the rest is lost in the six hour surgery that followed.

    THE HOSPITAL

    I woke up wrapped like a mummy. I was on my back in an air bed, in a room I had never seen. Did I dream that Shaun had come and held my hand? Why were my parents here? I didn’t know what was going on, so I tried to sit up. Then I felt the intense pain on my back, my side, my shins, my feet, my thigh, my hip, my forearms, my wrists, my shoulder, my fingertips, my ribcage, my stomach, and my chest. It all came at me in one large rush, and I knew exactly where I was and remembered what had happened. I spent the next three weeks waking up to the exact same confusion, rush of pain, and realization of my surroundings. My condition never seemed to change for the better, no matter how many times I went through the process of attempting to sleep it off. The worst part about the pain was that it never completely subsided unless I was sleeping, and I had nightmares of the accident every time I slept. I couldn’t escape what had happened to me. On the rare good days, my Dad would brush my hair for hours; it was the only thing that helped me forget what I was going through.

    My road rash was so severe that my skin was not going to grow back on its own.I had lost too much surface area for the doctors to simply suture me together and send me home. After the blood loss had been controlled, the skin loss needed to be addressed. I was to receive full thickness skin grafts. Literally, the doctors had only 2 places on my body to harvest healthy skin. My thighs were the only two places that had not received any abrasions. In order to help my open wounds heal, the doctors had to cut off a thick layer of healthy skin from my thighs and place it over my burns, surgically stapling the new skin in place. This was the only way to “fix” me, and I didn’t even have enough skin to graft all of my wounds at once. The doctors had to choose which areas to graft first, and which ones would have to wait.

    Wound vac: a slang medical term that will give me goose bumps for the rest of my life. When a patient receives a skin graft, a suction cup is placed over the completed surgery in order to increase blood flow from under the new skin. These devices are called wound vacuums, and they ensure that the burn tissue does not die, but rather joins with the new skin to create a layer of dermis where none would have grown without the graft surgery. It feels like a leech, a constant sucking on the most painful abrasion you’ve had in your entire life. Multiply your worst skinned knee as a kid by 50, add it to 55 percent of your body, and then let someone suck on it with a handheld vacuum for 24 hours a day; only then will you know what it is to experience a wound vacuum on a fresh skin graft. Each graft received a dose of the painful sucking and after three weeks I was free from the noisy machines.

    The only thing worse than the wound vacuums were the dressing changes. Even thinking about the pain today makes me sick to my stomach. In the areas the doctors were not able to graft within the first three weeks: my back, chest, rib cage, side, and stomach, they did daily dressing changes to make sure the wounds we being kept clean. My bandages acted as my skin where the graft surgery had not yet taken place. Every time the doctors changed my dressings, it was as if they were ripping off my skin. The oxygen hitting the open burns was enough to make me scream. Cleaning the wounds with water would send me into a rage. It is safe to say I would have rather been lying on that road again than go through a daily dressing change. This lasted the entire two months I spent in the hospital.

    Physical therapy, as motivating as it was supposed to be, was just as painful as anyone can imagine. Struggling to sit up in bed, hold myself up without help, and lay back down without hurting the open burns on my back proved itself to be a daunting task. Attempting to stretch my skin, which was tough and thick as leather, once the grafts were slightly healed, made me wince and fear that I would lose all motion in my wrists. I remember getting dizzy just from trying to stand up, blacking out and throwing up from a wheelchair ride down the hall, and crying at night because I couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom on my own. All the abilities I took for granted in my everyday life had come back to haunt me, to teach me a lesson on why I should be thankful for every second I am breathing.

    Everyday I would dread the moment the doctors came into my room. Whether they were coming to do a conscious sedation for my daily dressing change, whisk me off to another surgery, or put me through physical therapy, my attitude worsened everyday towards the people who were trying to save my skin. It drove me to act bitter towards the people who cared about me the most; my parents were there every day and I know it must have been difficult for them to put up with me. The pain I went through pushed me into a deep depression, but I refused to be put on medication for anything of that nature. I was taking 20 pills with breakfast and dinner every day, I didn’t need to add to that number. I was asked several times if I wanted to talk to a psychologist about the accident, talk about the nightmares my nurses always reported me having at night, but I denied the willing listener. In short, I made sure I paid for my mistakes dearly, not only physically, but emotionally as well, and everyone around me could see the old Brittany fading away.

    After my final skin graft surgery on November 16th, I woke up feeling as if my back had been completely replaced. The noticeable difference between the open wound and the grafted burn was enough to lift my spirits. I was able to lay comfortably for the first time in two months. I knew the time had come for me to get out of thehospital and start the real healing: returning to my normal life. I had to beg my doctors to let me go home. I couldn’t stand the thought of returning to a physical rehabilitation hospital. With fresh donor sites on my left thigh and a throbbing pain worse than most I had felt, I walked down the hall on the fifth floor three days after surgery so I could go home. I cried with relief when they signed my release paperwork.

    GOING HOME

    I walked slowly into my house for the first time in over two months. The smell alone was enough to make me smile, as Thanksgiving dinner was being prepared for the next day. The warm air, the sound of my dog yelping at my return, the softness of my own bed sheets, and the glow of real sunlight pouring in through the bedroom windows gave me the most comfort I had experienced since the accident, and compared to the hospital, it was heaven. I was not on my own by any means; my Mom had to help me shower and give me my blood thinning shots twice a day in my stomach. Walking from my bedroom to the kitchen made me break a sweat, as my muscles had not been used in two months. I still had open wounds, was using a personal walker built for full body support to move around, and couldn’t even dress myself, but I felt a happiness that seemed almost unfamiliar.

    Coming home was the best thing that could have happened to me. The doctors gave me a month before I would be walking without the walker, but I threw it in the back of my closet after the third day. I ditched my bandages after a week and started wearing jeans ten days later. I was determined to feel normal again, or at last appear normal to the unknowing passerby. I began driving after only two weeks out of the hospital and started living my life as if I had never fallen off that motorcycle. My friends and family could see how quickly I was becoming myself again. I truly believe being around such wonderful support helped me heal as quickly as I did.

    I was still attending physical therapy, but was improving at speeds that amazed even my own doctors. I was walking up stairs without a second thought and riding the stationary bike with ease. It still hurt to do normal things, even bending my knees to sit in a chair would send pain up my legs, but I learned to ignore it all. I was so used to the way my skin ached, including the itching and burning I would feel every second, that it was as if I never really felt it anymore. My mind had blocked it out and unless I stopped to notice it, the sensitivity and uncomfortable nature of the healing skin grafts wasn’t even in my thoughts.

    The morning my hair started to fall out I knew something was wrong. I had been out of the hospital for an entire month but the medication I was taking had just started to leave my system. The combination of chemicals that had kept me alive and comfortable in the hospital was now killing the living cells in my scalp and face. After a week of pulling chunks of my own hair out and watching my eyelashes and eyebrows fall to my cheeks, I felt like a cancer patient taking chemotherapy. I cut my long blonde hair short to try and save as much of it as I could, but it never stopped. You could see through the few thin strands left all the way to my scalp and I even had a couple completely bald spots. I finally had had enough and decided to simply shave my head and get it over with. I cried as the rest of my hair hit the bathroom floor that night.

    After everything I had suffered as a direct result of the fall: 55 percent body coverage of third degree burns, severed tendons in my left pinky finger, a severely dislocated right big toe, and a large amount of blood loss; what really slowed the healing process was what I experienced in the hospital. Indirect results of the accident due to a prolonged hospital stay: pneumonia, urinary tract infection, pseudomonas infection, blood infection, a blood clot in my left leg, yeast infections, anemia, 3 blood transfusions with 1 adverse reaction, 8 surgeries, 31 conscious sedations, countless skin debreedments, and undiagnosed PTSD and depression. With these things in mind, the loss of my hair seemed minimal at most. My hair would grow back. I was alive, and thankful for that everyday. I knew that what I had gone through would give me the strength to survive anything else God had planned for me in the future. As long as I could walk, talk, and breathe, I was always happy to be on this earth and would never take the blessings in my life for granted again.

    RETURNING TO RIDING

    My heart felt heaving knowing something I loved so much had almost cost me my life. I knew the mistakes I had made and the consequences I never wanted to face again. I couldn’t imagine not riding because it was one of my few joys. I knew I would never again ride without my gear. Even on a hot day and a short trip, my helmet would always be on my head and I would make sure it was functioning properly. I was back on a motorcycle as a passenger a few times before I was rid of the fear I felt. Once I was able to go highway speeds, I knew I was ready and able to ride again. I wanted to feel the freedom that comes with being alone on the machine and rolling on the throttle, putting the rest of the world on hold.

    I bought my 2006 Yamaha R6s on June 22nd from a local dealer. With help from a very close friend, I was reminded of the basics of riding every morning for a couple of weeks in free lessons that were tailored to my needs as a rider. I was taught the importance of knowing that while on a motorcycle, literally anything can happen at any time. Riding prepared for the worst possibilities will always protect you from injury in even the smallest wreck. I know I never want to feel the way I did in the hospital again, and anything I can do to keep that from happening, I will do every time I get on a bike. I learned some new skills in that first month back on the road, but I also learned some important things about myself as well. I learned how strong I really am, especially after returning to the sport that changed my life after almost claiming it.

    THE FINAL OUTCOME

    My road rash will take several years to completely heal and will never look or feel normal again. I have conquered the only fear that kept me from riding and I will never put myself in the same position to receive such injuries as I have lived through this past year. I stress the importance of wearing full gear to each and every person I ride with, talk to, or even who happens to read my story. I believe that my experiences are a lesson to every type of rider or passenger. I would never wish the pain I felt and still feel today upon anyone in this world. It is completely avoidable with a few extra layers, and I can’t say it enough: it is undeniably worth it to gear up. Everything I have gone through this past year will not be in vain if my testimony is enough to save someone’s skin.
    1988 "BlackHawk" project
    1989 "RallyHawk" is Chuck's now!
    1988 "The Gray" Tempest Gray Metallic stocker

    I can't tell you how peaceful it is. Shinya Kimura
    People who know ride Hawks. Riot

    #2
    BTW, this should be a sticky. As it is, I'm carrying copies of this article under the seat of my Hawk, to pass out to any uninitiated squids I might find on the road.
    1988 "BlackHawk" project
    1989 "RallyHawk" is Chuck's now!
    1988 "The Gray" Tempest Gray Metallic stocker

    I can't tell you how peaceful it is. Shinya Kimura
    People who know ride Hawks. Riot

    Comment


      #3
      Pretty harrowing story. I used to be very absolute about wearing gear (long canvas pants, jacket, gloves, helmet) all the time, but the reality is that in Florida it's virtually impossible to wear everything every time. I always wear a helmet, obviously, but sometimes a t-shirt and sometimes shorts. My riding is all under 40 mph in town.

      Clearly it's safer to wear full leathers all the time but if you are riding *to* somewhere and not just out for fun you can't always do that.
      1989 Hawk, red
      TBR exhaust
      clipons

      Comment


        #4
        I started riding back last spring after aquiring my hawk. I gear up with full leather(boots,gloves, everything basically) and rode for most of the summer like that. Yes it is warm but beleive me, in the area I ride you need all the protection you can get. People just don't pay any attention to motorcylist, I came very close of being hit by a F-150 side ways. That was it for me.

        Stories like that is what it takes sometime to make you realise how important it is to gear up properly.

        p.s. Ride Safe
        Its not gone yet and I already regret selling it.

        Comment


          #5
          Ekubota, think that over. I challenge you to put on that t-shirt and shorts, strap on your helmet and sprint across a parking lot. Then take a dive across the pavement. You know, slide into home base. You won't be going more than TEN mph running, but I guarantee it'll put you in the hospital. It's not that you've been "safe enough," it's that you've been lucky.

          There's lots of hot-weather gear out there! I wear Fieldsheer's Titanium Air jacket and pants, and it's like wearing nothing. Look around some for something comfortable. Bohn Armor, Draggin' Jeans, there's all kinds of options if you don't want to get geared up like Rossi. But, sh!t, man! Wear your jacket, pants, gloves and boots along with your helmet. Your head is no good unless you've protected the body that carries it around!
          1988 "BlackHawk" project
          1989 "RallyHawk" is Chuck's now!
          1988 "The Gray" Tempest Gray Metallic stocker

          I can't tell you how peaceful it is. Shinya Kimura
          People who know ride Hawks. Riot

          Comment


            #6
            I've been down once - at the track. Obviously wearing full gear. No injuries, really.

            Like I said, I knew I would get a lot of flak for this - and I am a very safe rider. You obviously don't live in Florida. No offense, but someone riding in Canada and someone in NY have different capacities as far as wearing gear in the 'real' world.

            When I go out to joyride (very, very rarely) wearing pants and a jacket and gloves is no problem. However, this isn't feasible when you're going to class or to the store.

            I do have a mesh jacket (Joe Rocket, I got it for free) - I wore it for a few weeks during the summer, and honestly, the level of protection from those is not enormously greater than a regular shirt or bare skin.

            And getting T-boned by a car is going to be *bad* no matter what gear you're wearing. The helmet is by far the most important, and then your skin.

            As I said, I used to wear everything, all the time. That's clearly the best option - no one is saying otherwise - but I doubt very many people wear everything every time. Everyone has to determine a safety level that they feel is reasonable and appropriate, and most importantly, sustainable. Telling everyone to wear gear all the time is not going to help you if you make "just one" exception because it's 105 outside. (not saying you do this)
            1989 Hawk, red
            TBR exhaust
            clipons

            Comment


              #7
              I'm always thankful when the cold side of the year comes (from October to April) so I will wear all of my gear without compromise.

              I feel very guilty wearing minimal gear. I always wear a helmet and gloves, but in the summer sometimes I won't wear a jacket. I really need to get a summer weight one, especially after that story.

              That was just horrific to read.
              '88 Hawk GT - back in the saddle
              '99 Suzuki GZ250 - the first

              '87 Suzuki GSXR1100/1207cc - traded to get my Hawk back

              Comment


                #8
                (long canvas pants, jacket, gloves, helmet)
                What the heck are canvas pants? And no, canvas isn't motorcycle gear. It may be more abrasion resistant than denim, but only 2x or 3x... so it's 8 or 12 feet of sliding before your skin is making contact instead of 4. So, a 30 mph low side means only about a hundred feet of skin-on-pavement before you stop, assuming you don't tumble.

                sometimes a t-shirt and sometimes shorts. My riding is all under 40 mph in town.
                You're fooling yourself into thinking it's safe at those speeds. It's not. I often ride fast, but all my crashes in the last 15 years have been from under 30 mph. In two of them my FULL GEAR prevented _any_ injuries, and in the third my nylon motorcycle pants burned through and I got a silver-dollar sized rash on my knee... from less than 15 mph actual crash speed. In all three I credit the leather/cordura, armor, boots, and gloves with preventing a LOT of pain and suffering. Those scuffs on my boots and jacket and popped seams on my gloves would have been broken foot bones and peeled off skin had I been wearing flip flops and shorts. Gear reduces or prevents injuries, period. Sure, you can still crash harder than the gear can absorb, and die, but I've seen lots of the opposite. What would have been an ambulance ride instead is a "walk away."

                ...mesh jacket... the level of protection from those is not enormously greater than a regular shirt or bare skin.
                Bullshit. That nylon mesh is 100x more abrasion resistant than cotton cloth, and the dense foam armor adds a tremendous amount of impact cushioning PLUS another layer of abrasion protection. I've seen mesh jackets that went through 60-75 mph crashes... they're destroyed, but the person has barely any injury. I know that my yellow Joe Rocket mesh jacket is actually cooler on a hot day than a t-shirt since it allows more airflow AND keeps the sun off my skin. Leather's much better and 1000d Cordura's much better but don't go spreading bad info.

                And getting T-boned by a car is going to be *bad* no matter what gear you're wearing. The helmet is by far the most important, and then your skin.
                It's far more common for a rider to avoid the actual T-bone but still dump their bike. But, if you do get in a bad wreck the effect of all your injuries adds up. A person with a crushed chest and concussion might survive, but add in a few square feet of 3rd degree skin removal and it's too much and they die. People can and do die from "just" abrasion injuries, it's worse than being burned.

                but I doubt very many people wear everything every time.
                It's your choice, of course. Just don't look around at all the squids and idiots (I've ridden in Florida!) and think "everyone else is riding almost naked, so it must be OK!" It's not. It is a good way to turn a minor incident into major injuries. Come on, you ride a Hawk, you've got to be smarter than them. Mesh jacket and pants with armor, good vented gloves, good vented boots, and a quality helmet are the minimum I'll ride in, and then only if it's too hot for non-mesh gear.

                Comment


                  #9
                  You obviously don't live in Florida. No offense, but someone riding in Canada and someone in NY have different capacities as far as wearing gear in the 'real' world.
                  Have you ever been to NY in the summer? It felt like all year temps were around 95 with at least 95% humidity. Oh, and today, December 1st... thank god for winter? ...Yeah, right! It was 70+ degrees and humid as a rainforest.

                  Yeah, I've been guilty of wearing a t shirt and also guilty of crashing in it. Pretty nasty gashes with scars to show for as well. They hurt then, but now what hurts more is when a fellow rider sees me not wearing motoBoots because I can't afford them right now and/or just my jeans because I don't want to wear my racepants everywhere I go and I end up feeling like a squid. I never ever want to be thought of as a squid.
                  ride Red.

                  Comment


                    #10
                    Uh Oh! A gear thread. I have heard so many arguments over this it literally is not funny.

                    For me this is a no brainer. I ALWAYS at a minimum wear a full face helmet, motorcycle specific gloves, Jeans (not slacks) and boots (my Army combat boots). I ride with this wherever I am, Be that Vermont at 90 or Arizona at 130. I would NEVER ride in shorts! Bugs flying up there, exhaust burns to point out a few of the less obvious reasons.
                    Yes, I have ridden in a T-shirt when it is hot or on a short jaunt and I am not proud of it. I am getting one of those mesh jackets for summer (I think they DO offer protection). On the Track it is full leathers, I have been wearing my race boots more on the street as well. My BIGGEST mistake has been buying BLACK leather! HOT!

                    Thankfully everytime I have been down I was wearing a Motorcycle jacket too. It saved ALOT of skin, I still have a big scar on my knee from where I went 280 feet down the road but that is for a worst crash post.

                    Now that you know my take I will also say this (It has come out in other Gear threads). This is a free country and you have a CHOICE. Wear gear or don't. I also have a CHOICE, I won't ride with people who don't wear the proper gear. I try not to judge and I try to educate and mentor as best I can. I just don't want the added liability and I don't want others to think I condone that behavior.

                    I am the President of the Vermont Green Knights chapter (Military Motorcyclists). We try to mentor riders to wear the proper gear, The most difficult ones are the old guys and the "cruiser" riders (Beanie Helmets).

                    I am glad there are a bunch of "Gear Nazi's" here.

                    Oh and as for a Squid? I have heard them defined as riders who go on short "spurts" on rides. Like a squid. Gas it, wheelie or some such and slow down, Gas it again and slow down....
                    Really has nothing to do with gear, More the way you ride.

                    Someone who rides without gear is an "Un rider" Or what was that term they used in that ad in the mags back in the day? Pic of a guy and his chick in gear calling them "Riders", Next page in shorts calling them "Unriders".??
                    My .02
                    BIKES: Honda: RC31 Racebike/ CRF 110 Mini Motard, DUCATI: 748
                    Former MSF Rider Coach / Trackday Instructor/ Expert Roadracer #116
                    "I'd rather ride a slow bike fast than a fast bike slow."

                    Comment


                      #11
                      Originally Posted by douglas.thompson
                      I challenge you to put on that t-shirt and shorts, strap on your helmet and sprint across a parking lot. Then take a dive across the pavement. You know, slide into home base. You won't be going more than TEN mph running, but I guarantee it'll put you in the hospital. It's not that you've been "safe enough," it's that you've been lucky.
                      Good "test" there Doug. i have used that same anology with some of the riders I know who used to not wear their gear.
                      BIKES: Honda: RC31 Racebike/ CRF 110 Mini Motard, DUCATI: 748
                      Former MSF Rider Coach / Trackday Instructor/ Expert Roadracer #116
                      "I'd rather ride a slow bike fast than a fast bike slow."

                      Comment


                        #12
                        Oh yeah...

                        I hear the comment about if you get hit by a car or some other impact then your gear won't save you.

                        True, Gear will do little to save you from an Impact, even a well fitting helmet will still have a bunch of collisions going on inside (helmet hits object, head hits inside of helmet brain hits inside of head, then reverse that for the recoil...) We take must THAT risk when we ride. If you can negate other risks by wearing the proper gear why don't you?

                        Not wearing gear is a form of natural selection for motorcycle riders.
                        (I have heard this as "Not wearing a helmet" but decided to change it)
                        BIKES: Honda: RC31 Racebike/ CRF 110 Mini Motard, DUCATI: 748
                        Former MSF Rider Coach / Trackday Instructor/ Expert Roadracer #116
                        "I'd rather ride a slow bike fast than a fast bike slow."

                        Comment


                          #13
                          As a newbee from this past april I had a canvas jacket, gloves, and boots even before I signed my name on the title. I ride in as much gear as possible. I crashed on a pocket bike (a 125cc) in jeans and a t-shirt and that hurt like hell, my jeans are now shorts cause both knees drug the ground. I don't even wanna think what it must feel like to hit and slide on the ground from my hawk. Now I'm in the hunt for a leather summer jacket with a liner. I'll deal with the 105 degree days in St.louis, but not road rash. Just my opinion.
                          90 Hawk. What can I do to make it better?
                          78 yz125. What can I do to destroy this thing?

                          Comment


                            #14
                            Staying in the topic and keeping it in this thread...

                            Am I the only one that gets PISSED when he see someone riding in shorts and flip flops on TV!!
                            Or with a stupid helmet?!!

                            It just makes me think that it is promoting the sport negatively..

                            That's my opinion, What's yours?
                            BIKES: Honda: RC31 Racebike/ CRF 110 Mini Motard, DUCATI: 748
                            Former MSF Rider Coach / Trackday Instructor/ Expert Roadracer #116
                            "I'd rather ride a slow bike fast than a fast bike slow."

                            Comment


                              #15
                              Originally Posted by Doc
                              Staying in the topic and keeping it in this thread...

                              Am I the only one that gets PISSED when he see someone riding in shorts and flip flops on TV!!
                              Or with a stupid helmet?!!

                              It just makes me think that it is promoting the sport negatively..

                              That's my opinion, What's yours?
                              Well yeah. If you're on a bike which five seconds after you hit the gas in first gear is going fast enough to grind your face off down to the bone, you don't look very cool riding without a helmet. I see it every day. I saw a guy today on a CBR1000 with just sunglasses on. Being a biker myself, I thought he looked dumb as shit.

                              But why do you see so many people on the "look at me" bikes doing crap like that? You don't see it nearly as frequently on more serious bikes, like tourers or old school jap stuff. That's because the people who ride it don't do it for an image enhancement. They ride to ride. Getting your skin ripped off your body cuts into seat time.

                              If you didn't see people riding around sans helmet on TV and in movies, you'd see a lot less of it happening on the streets. No "cool" precedent, no uncool copycats.

                              Remember those ridiculous Triumph scenes in Mission: Impossible 2?

                              All of them were done sans helmet. Tom Cruise's character even did a stoppie turn with one hand on the handlebars and the other firing a gun. Makes a regular ride with full gear on seem like the lamest thing ever, doesn't it?
                              '88 Hawk GT - back in the saddle
                              '99 Suzuki GZ250 - the first

                              '87 Suzuki GSXR1100/1207cc - traded to get my Hawk back

                              Comment

                              Working...
                              X