[Ducati] 1st Time Racetrack Experiences part 7

[Gleeb Gliber Galactica Gavorti]

       Since I did not want to help load my bike (and they certainly would not have wanted me to do so) into the back of a small pickup they had on the scene I used the time to take a personal inventory. 12 fingers and 17 toes, so nothing’s missing. No. Something’s wrong. That’s too many. Time to have a seat in the truck and start over. A minute or two to relax and I begin again. No apparent abrasions. All my blood is still inside me. Things are looking well. Possible concussion? Who knows? I was feeling a bit loopy at the time but that could be shock, adrenalin, endorphins or most likely all three. My left ankle is staring to hurt and so’s my wrist. Walking is painful.
  We ride the truck over to the ambulance on scene, where a nice fellow pokes and prods me a bit. He does not really do any tests for a concussion or other injuries unrelated to my apparent sprains. But I am pretty alert and not complaining of other pains so the medic gives me a few (near worthless) ice packs and a couple of bandages and they take my bike and me back to my pit area.
  In the pit my bike and I are off-loaded and this is where it hits me just how much the rest of the day is going to be different from the hours previous. From this point on, I am the designated "gimp" of the group. Fortunately people were as helpful as they could be without making too much fuss. Much fuss over a bad situation makes everything worse in my opinion. My injuries were checked over again by Phil (who happens to have a bit of training in the medical field) and again it seemed I was relatively unhurt. Thereafter I was basically left to do as I pleased (not really because what I "pleased" was to be riding my bike on the racetrack again) and just kind of hung around (with my sprained ankle elevated whenever possible) the rest of the day.
  That gave me plenty of opportunity to think about recent events. During the crash I was airborne for a couple seconds and flew in the air at least 5 or 6 vertical feet. When I landed it was on my back. Whump. Then I did a bit of rolling. What’s so cool about the whole situation is that I was wearing a healthy dose (literally) of body armor at the time. Not only did I have armor throughout my pants but also I elected to wear an armor exoskeleton with shoulder, back and chest protection underneath my riding jacket that was likewise adorned with body armor. And all I can say is BRAVO! That stuff performed as well as I had hoped it would and then some. I could have been wearing better boots and gloves with some hard protection to help prevent sprains but even they prevented all but superficial injuries. Interestingly, my helmet never hit the ground. It sounds unbelievable but it’s true. There was not a scratch on my new Arai. Not only are Arai helmets made to top-notch specs
 and notorious for absorbing impact well, it seems some models actually manage to keep one’s head away from hard surfaces entirely. Lucky me ;-)
  Obviously the second half of my "track day" was a drag and not really a track day at all. I hung around the pit area with my broken bike as my friends went riding, dicing it up and having a good time. I was actually just happy to be in good health and enjoyed their enjoyment for the most part. But I sure would like to have had a few more sessions out on the track with them. Again I was very fortunate to have members of the SBDuc club with me that day. They helped a lot. Peter (the other SBDuc rider besides Miko in my riding group) had come with his enclosed big-ass trailer. There was plenty of room in there for my bike as well as room in his truck for myself. Some people who have accidents are not nearly as fortunate. So I am again, grateful.
  During the second half of the day I spoke again with Kurt ("my" instructor from my first session) who still maintained I was a good rider and should definitely come back; that the track is a good place for me. I was glad to hear that from him, even though he might have said that to any of his fallen students. At least he did not think I was a danger to the other riders. 
  Later in the afternoon Bruno (the Portuguese Duc club Prez.) happened by to shoot the shit with our group. He did not notice me sitting there for a while. When he finally recognized me with my foot wrapped in a bandage and elevated and then pointed to my thrashed motorcycle in a quizzical manner I nodded in the affirmative. His eyes got so wide I could see his cerebrum processing the information behind his pupils. I think I disappointed Bruno very much. More than myself perhaps. He’s probably over it by now, though. 


   
  ride well
   
  gabriel



"There's nothing wrong with you that an expensive operation can't prolong."  -Python, Monty.
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