It Hurts when you Tump

One minute you’re hanging around, getting ready to go for a motorcycle ride with a few buddies, the next minute you’re in the emergency room at St. John’s Hospital.

Not the Sunday ride I had in mind.So went my Sunday morning. Brad and I rode up to the QT east of Tulsa to meet a few other riders from the Tulsa Sportbike Rider’s forum. About 9:30 we were going for a Sunday ride up around Spavinaw and Jay. There were a dozen of us all together at the time we left. Or so I’m told- I don’t remember ever pulling out of the parking lot.

Later that afternoon I remember seeing my wife and father-in-law standing beside me. I wasn’t sure where I was, but it certainly did not look like a pleasure cruise. I was in a bed- not my own- and everything was white or stainless steel. A hospital seemed like the most plausible answer.

Then a lady started asking me benign questions which I couldn’t possibly answer.

“What year is it?”

Black and blue bruises tell the story.I honestly did not know. Two-thousand something was about all I could manage to say. That’s when I realized that my noggin must have made solid contact with terra firma. When I caught a glimpse of my tortured helmet the theory was confirmed- hard impact with a rocky surface.

I am a very lucky boy.

Best I can tell my front tire washed out (maybe a little or maybe a lot) going through a left-hander on Oklahoma 20 just north of Spavinaw. I’ve been down this road dozens of times. This time I must have lost my concentration or let it get away from me. Either way I ended up head-first into the rocks along the shoulder. Sharp rocks. Like Indians used to make arrowheads.

Motorcycle wrecks attract a crowd.Frequent readers of this site know that I hold no punches when it comes to wearing proper riding gear. This experience has been a certain, if unnecessary, confirmation of the practice. The fact I was wearing a helmet and protective riding gear spared me from serious injury.

Read more on the Tulsa Sportbike Rider’s Forum

More photos snapped by Jason

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Rex Brown

Jack of all trades, master of none. I like to write about cars, motorcycles, vintage electronics and anything Italian.

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