Airplane stories, now motorcycle crashes ... you aren't writing some sort of book, are you???
I have had many, but probably the most memorable was in El Boson, Argentina in 2012. My apologies to those who have already heard this one. My buddy Chuck and I were on a mission to reach Ushuaia by December 21st, 2012. We wanted to be at the end of the world (Ushuaia) by the end of the (Mayan) world. Without spending a lot of time on background, Chuck and I have a general traveling order; me first, Chuck second. I stopped to take some pictures and since it was raining it required removing at least my gloves and perhaps my over jacket. I told Chuck to go on, I would catch him in El Boson, about 8 or 10 miles away.
Once I had taken the pictures, stored my camera and redid my clothing, Chuck was long gone. But I figured I would catch him somewhere before El Boson. So, I took off. Somewhere along the way, on a long sweeping right hand turn, I decided to check my GPS to see how much further it was to El Boson. I looked down, pressed the zoom out button and then looked up. I was headed straight for the grill of a huge South American tour bus. I was traveling at least 70 mph. My guess is that he was doing about the same in the opposite direction. I pushed hard and managed to get out of the direct way, but still hit the bus on the side behind the drivers front wheel. All I really remember is the sound. It was a large explosive type whump!
The back end of the bike flew out to my right and went down, I flew off the bike on the left side towards the bus. As if the bike had low sided. My cases on both sides came off and my junk flew everywhere. My bike spun down the highway and came to rest about 150 feet on the opposite shoulder. I had good gear on. I had a slight abrasion on my left elbow that came from the road wearing through my Motoport jacket. My toe was aching a little. My Alpinestar left hand glove's knuckle protector had ripped off. By the time the bus got stopped he was a good 100 yards in the other direction. I had already stood up by the time the bus drivers emerged and came around the end of the bus.
I had to be a sight. I was wearing a Harley rain suit that was completely shredded standing in the middle of the road. Chuck would later say, I looked like a scarecrow. Before they saw me, I am certain the bus drivers thought I was dead. I hadn't thought about this until just now, but maybe they were just plain scared of me? They came around the end of the bus saying; "bien? bien?" I think the bus was brand new. There were three bus drivers but not a single passenger. My bike had left a crease beginning at the back of the front wheel and traveling all the way to the front of the back wheel, across at least three undercarriage cargo doors. Thousands of dollars damage. I walked towards the bus, and said "Bien!" turned and started walking toward my bike, picking up my junk, which was everywhere.
Good people stopped and helped, one guy picked up my right box that ended up in the ditch but still had much of it's stuff still in it. The bus drivers helped. I finally got to my bike, picked it up with the help of another guy and stood it on the side stand. The left case had broken the hinges, the front left crash bar had broken in two places and the dang thing wouldn't start. I finally realized it was in gear and the side stand was down. I finally kicked it into neutral and it cranked right up.
Now the legal stuff. I was in Argentina, I was a Gringo, I had just caused thousands of dollars damage to a brand new bus. I figured, jail time! So I just owned up and said, "it was my fault!". One of the cars passing by had gone on to El Boson and managed to tell Chuck that I was in a "Grande!!!" accident. Chuck pulled up just as the bus and I pulled out heading for El Boson. I motioned for him to follow. When we got to the Police checkpoint, the bus drivers were the first to talk to the Police Officer. I speak very little spanish, but I noticed, there was no finger pointing or over excitement (may be they were still scared of me? LOL). Finally the officer turned to me and asked if I was ok. I said yes. Eventually he gave me a form to sign (in spanish), and said, "this is only that we talked to you and you said you were ok." So I signed it. Then he asked something that shocked me, "what do you want to do?" I just said "nothing!" And the bus drivers were off.
The officer helped me find a guy to weld my crash bar. The guy worked out of his parents garage and after two or three hours the crash bar actually fit better than when it came from the KTM factory. I asked "how much" and he said "nada!" I left $40 on his tool box. We traveled into and out of Argentina at least a dozen times after that and I have to admit I was always waiting for that "Mr. Fink, we need to talk to you." moment. I never heard again from the bus drivers or the bus company. I suspect they went to their company and just said, "no... no, we don't know how that happened!"
I realize how fortunate I am, not many folks can walk away from an accident and tell the story of when they hit a bus at the combined speed of 140 mph.