15-08-13, 10:26 PM
I know I've not posted here in some time, but I thought I should update you all as to what's happened to me. Since I got the Gen1 Fazer 1000 I've really enjoyed riding it, commuting, taking my brother to Southampton (from near Exeter) and all sorts of general bimbling about. What follows is a post I made in another forum I'm on;
Here are some pics of the results of an accident I have just been involved in.
What follows is an account of what I remember of the night of the 10th of August 2013. It is as much for myself as others, in the hopes it will jog some memories and as such I've written it more as a narrative than my usual post. I'm not yet angry about all this as I can't remember it, and I would like to remember so I can get good and angry.
Ok so; from what my memory tells me I was working yesterday, and finished up about 10:30 - 11:00. I think it was nearer 10:30 though I'm not entirely sure. I put my bike gear on; akito textile trousers, akito jacket, LS2 flip helmet, nice long bike boots and Held gloves (from my bro who donated them to me rather than send them back as a strap was missing. Not vital.) I clocked out, walked over to my pride and joy, a gen 1 fzs 1000 which I had already upgraded in several ways, unlocked it and rolled it out of the staff car park away from potential customers in nearby rooms like a good boy, so the engine wouldn't disturb them. (I love the sound of it, but I can see that others might not.)
....
There's a female paramedic talking to me, I think she's asking me things. Her voice sounds nice, and reassuring.
....
I'm lying on a bed in a hospital. I can see my brother and our mutual friend stood not far from me, and things are hurting. I appear to have lost my trousers and I can see my helmet on a chair (which I think was pointed out to me) with half the visor missing. My phone is in the breast pocket of my chef's jacket, and it only now occurs to me that this is odd, I never put it there. Always in my trouser pocket.
There are several jumbled thoughts bouncing around my head now, some of them starting to coalesce into realisation. Evidence. Vague memories. I think I know the answer already, but I ask anyway. "What am I doing here."
Patiently my brother explains again. I'm in hospital, as I've just been in an accident. I don't know if I've asked already but there's no memory of it. Several new thoughts float to the top of my mind. My neck hurts when I swallow. "Where's my bike?!?" I dread the answer but it comes from my friend. The bike looks like it'll be written off.
Unaware of all the parts of my body that are hurting, they start to make themselves known as I move around on the hospital bed. I roll over to my side, and decide to attempt to sleep. I'm tired. Checking my phone it's some time after 3 am.
"It's probably not a good idea to sleep just yet."
My brother's voice. Sleep seems like a very good idea to me, perhaps I could forget the pain for a while. Why does it hurt to swallow? Still, I know his experience and defer to his wisdom as I roll over on to my back again and look around the room.
"They'll want to check you over soon."
Lying there I see someone in uniform on their way past who looks over to me. I recognise the uniform of a paramedic. She introduces her collegue as the gent who took my trousers off. I still feel more than a bit confused but manage a retort. "He didn't even buy me a drink first!"
A short time later, which feels like an age, a female doctor (I think?) comes over to examine me. After several checks it's decided that I'm fit to be discharged as long as I can be supervised. I've had a head trauma, and she's worried I may need to come back if there are any further problems, but thinks I seem fine to go home and rest.
After that I head over to my brother's place for the night, so I'm not on my own. After a fitful sleep the morning comes with a few painful and distressing realisations. I've no bike. There's insurance claims to sort and it just feels like I've lost my legs; I like being independant and being able to go where I like and now that's been taken away from me and hurled across the cruel tarmac and into a verge. To be ingloriously scooped up and dumped in storage in a place that would be so accessible if I had wheels. But that now seems unreachable.
I just want to see it, and see how bad the damage is.
....
Of everything that happened last night, the worst is the loss of my bike. It was my favourite out of any I'd owned. If there's a chance, I will get it back, and it will ride again. I can't accept anything else. Meanwhile I'm waiting for police and insurance to phone about what's going to happen now.
This is pieced together from what I've been told:
I was riding home last night form Ashburton and got to here when a merc that was coming from the opposite direction decided to turn in to Dartmoor Halfway Inn cutting across my path. I'm told it was the angle when I hit it, that sent me over to the other side of the road and into the verge. I'm also told it would have been a lot worse if I'd have hit at more of a right angle, and the police officer I spoke to said I was very lucky to get away so lightly.
So there's my first off after a run in with a cager. I still haven't remembered anything about the actual journey or the incident, but it's only been about 15-16 hours.
I'm not a happy bunny right now. I want my bike back.
I feel like I should add:
Thanks go out to my brother who's always been there when I needed him. My good friend Dan (known on here as DannyMassive) who's been a great help to me in many ways, and who was there with me last night. To the two lovely paramedics who picked me up and took my trousers off, you can take my trousers off any time. (and I always, without fail, get the heck out of an ambulance's way as fast as I can. Each time I do I think "Might need one some day." That day was yesterday.) And to the lovely doctor who checked me out. She had a very pleasant bedside manner.
Here are some pics of the results of an accident I have just been involved in.
What follows is an account of what I remember of the night of the 10th of August 2013. It is as much for myself as others, in the hopes it will jog some memories and as such I've written it more as a narrative than my usual post. I'm not yet angry about all this as I can't remember it, and I would like to remember so I can get good and angry.
Ok so; from what my memory tells me I was working yesterday, and finished up about 10:30 - 11:00. I think it was nearer 10:30 though I'm not entirely sure. I put my bike gear on; akito textile trousers, akito jacket, LS2 flip helmet, nice long bike boots and Held gloves (from my bro who donated them to me rather than send them back as a strap was missing. Not vital.) I clocked out, walked over to my pride and joy, a gen 1 fzs 1000 which I had already upgraded in several ways, unlocked it and rolled it out of the staff car park away from potential customers in nearby rooms like a good boy, so the engine wouldn't disturb them. (I love the sound of it, but I can see that others might not.)
....
There's a female paramedic talking to me, I think she's asking me things. Her voice sounds nice, and reassuring.
....
I'm lying on a bed in a hospital. I can see my brother and our mutual friend stood not far from me, and things are hurting. I appear to have lost my trousers and I can see my helmet on a chair (which I think was pointed out to me) with half the visor missing. My phone is in the breast pocket of my chef's jacket, and it only now occurs to me that this is odd, I never put it there. Always in my trouser pocket.
There are several jumbled thoughts bouncing around my head now, some of them starting to coalesce into realisation. Evidence. Vague memories. I think I know the answer already, but I ask anyway. "What am I doing here."
Patiently my brother explains again. I'm in hospital, as I've just been in an accident. I don't know if I've asked already but there's no memory of it. Several new thoughts float to the top of my mind. My neck hurts when I swallow. "Where's my bike?!?" I dread the answer but it comes from my friend. The bike looks like it'll be written off.
Unaware of all the parts of my body that are hurting, they start to make themselves known as I move around on the hospital bed. I roll over to my side, and decide to attempt to sleep. I'm tired. Checking my phone it's some time after 3 am.
"It's probably not a good idea to sleep just yet."
My brother's voice. Sleep seems like a very good idea to me, perhaps I could forget the pain for a while. Why does it hurt to swallow? Still, I know his experience and defer to his wisdom as I roll over on to my back again and look around the room.
"They'll want to check you over soon."
Lying there I see someone in uniform on their way past who looks over to me. I recognise the uniform of a paramedic. She introduces her collegue as the gent who took my trousers off. I still feel more than a bit confused but manage a retort. "He didn't even buy me a drink first!"
A short time later, which feels like an age, a female doctor (I think?) comes over to examine me. After several checks it's decided that I'm fit to be discharged as long as I can be supervised. I've had a head trauma, and she's worried I may need to come back if there are any further problems, but thinks I seem fine to go home and rest.
After that I head over to my brother's place for the night, so I'm not on my own. After a fitful sleep the morning comes with a few painful and distressing realisations. I've no bike. There's insurance claims to sort and it just feels like I've lost my legs; I like being independant and being able to go where I like and now that's been taken away from me and hurled across the cruel tarmac and into a verge. To be ingloriously scooped up and dumped in storage in a place that would be so accessible if I had wheels. But that now seems unreachable.
I just want to see it, and see how bad the damage is.
....
Of everything that happened last night, the worst is the loss of my bike. It was my favourite out of any I'd owned. If there's a chance, I will get it back, and it will ride again. I can't accept anything else. Meanwhile I'm waiting for police and insurance to phone about what's going to happen now.
This is pieced together from what I've been told:
I was riding home last night form Ashburton and got to here when a merc that was coming from the opposite direction decided to turn in to Dartmoor Halfway Inn cutting across my path. I'm told it was the angle when I hit it, that sent me over to the other side of the road and into the verge. I'm also told it would have been a lot worse if I'd have hit at more of a right angle, and the police officer I spoke to said I was very lucky to get away so lightly.
So there's my first off after a run in with a cager. I still haven't remembered anything about the actual journey or the incident, but it's only been about 15-16 hours.
I'm not a happy bunny right now. I want my bike back.
I feel like I should add:
Thanks go out to my brother who's always been there when I needed him. My good friend Dan (known on here as DannyMassive) who's been a great help to me in many ways, and who was there with me last night. To the two lovely paramedics who picked me up and took my trousers off, you can take my trousers off any time. (and I always, without fail, get the heck out of an ambulance's way as fast as I can. Each time I do I think "Might need one some day." That day was yesterday.) And to the lovely doctor who checked me out. She had a very pleasant bedside manner.
![[Image: 9499300713_97beced196.jpg]](http://farm8.staticflickr.com/7320/9499300713_97beced196.jpg)
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