Smoothie
10-15-2002, 02:53 PM
I'm scheduled for surgery on the clavicle tomorrow. Prognosis is excellent! My head stopped spinning so it looks like the recovery will go very well.
If you don't want to read all this crap, here's the short version: I had a high-side crash at t-hill in T2 towards the end of the last session. I suffered a concussion and a complicated collar bone fracture.
First of all, the fact that this crash happened at all is terribly discouraging. I am disappointed with myself. Those of you who know me know that I approach motorcycling with safety in mind. “crash and learn” is just a joke. I like to go fast, but I always leave room for safety. I don’t go 100%... EVER. My basic plan is: don’t crash. That’s it. Some of you crash at the track and accept it as part of the game. I think that’s great. Going 100% is a fine line to walk, and crashing is the price you pay for it. But I wasn’t playing that game. My plan was to go 85- 95% and be happy with it. Enjoy my bike as it grows old and live to ride another day. Sure, I could go 100% and shave off another, what... 3 or 4 seconds, but what for? I’d still be slow! Anyhow, I thought I was being Mr. Safety out there. Crashing was totally unexpected. But getting injured, trashing my bike, and suffering a concussion put a serious hurt on my pride, not to mention that it blows a huge hole in my credibility when I try to assure family and friends that motorcycling can be a safe hobby.
So this letter is for all you folks who take your pristine street bikes out to the track planning to bring them home without a scratch because you’re playing it ‘safe’. Here’s what happened to me, and I’m sharing everything I can remember so that hopefully it won’t happen to you...
I was fully prepared. Prior to this trackday I viewed several different videos of Thunderhill to be completely familiar with the track. I had reviewed Keith Code’s books to be up to snuff on the techniques I was going to use, and I was well-rested. I also had lots of Thunderhill notes from experienced local racers so I was definitely set.
Unfortunately it turned out that I was over-prepared. I had intellectualized everything to the point that I was doing every control input as a conscious decision. I’ve heard people call this “riding in your head”. I think that’s what I was doing. I had so much information in my head that it couldn’t concentrate on just RIDING. It was too much, so my first session was timid and sketchy.
I decided to bag the plan for a while and just get a good feel for the bike. This turned out to be the perfect adjustment; the next session I was much smoother and confident. I then switched to the advanced group B so I could ride with a couple of SV650 racers (Ron and Dave) that I recently met. It turned out we were very compatible; I was faster than Ron but slower than Dave. We were able to dice it up a bit and I found this to help my concentration quite a lot.
Later I went back to my notes, but I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t change everything at once. If I could, I guess I’d be running 2:01 laps right? Oh well. Instead, I picked out one or two tips and took them with me into each session. This worked great.
Lunchtime at a trackday is the perfect time to evaluate how things are going. Ron remarked that I was hanging way, way off the bike. He said I resembled a “monkey in a sidecar”. I was just ‘making sure’ because it seems that no one really hangs off as far as they think. I decided that I might be overdoing it, particularly since I was dragging my knee when Ron still had about three inches to go even though we were at the same speed. Also my knee sliders were wearing down quickly, so I adopted a less extreme hang-off in the afternoon and it felt more natural. Also during lunch I showed off my completely stock YZF600. They noticed that I still had the feelers on my footpegs. I said I liked dragging parts! They suggested that I get rid of them, so I did. It was about time I graduated anyway. Nobody who spends much time at the track has feelers on their footpegs do they?
The afternoon sessions felt better. I was having a lot of fun with my favorite turn -T2. I found myself trail braking into the turn (something new), holding a lot of corner speed, and getting an early drive out. It seemed like I was going faster almost everywhere but especially T2. I dropped six seconds off my time (down to 2:15) and I still had plenty of room to improve since I was still playing it safe in a few turns. Like turns 7 and 8 which were producing a bit of wallow. My whole bike was heaving and bouncing so I didn’t push it there. But turn 2 was working great! I was glad I got rid of that footpeg feeler; it had been distracting me. I was able to get on the gas much earlier now, and I found that I was dragging the footpeg anyway. I had that turn dialed in just about perfectly (according to me). I even noticed on one lap that the back end stepped out a wee bit on the exit. It was nothing major – probably two inches – but it just felt perfect and I knew that T2 was as good as I was going to get it.
4:00 P.M.
Before the last session Ron remarked that I had gotten faster throughout the day and I agreed. I was going better than ever. I was by no means “fast” but my times were dropping consistently and that was the important thing. Here’s what I remember from the last session. Just before we hit the track I showed Dave the grindage to the left footpeg and he nodded. He waved me in front as we entered the track so he could follow for a couple laps. After his tires were warmed up he got by me easily. I tried to stick with him for a couple laps but he was too fast. I knocked my pace off a bit. Down the front straight I looked back and I didn’t see Ron either. I remember thinking it was too bad the last session was going to be kinda lonely. I’m not sure which lap that was, but I did knock my pace off a bit. It turns out my last complete lap was a 2:18 and I only had two more laps to go before the end of the session, and the end of the day...
wavy lines ~~~~ harp music ~~~~~ wavy lines ~~~~ harp music
“You were in a motorcycle crash”, said the smiling face.
I didn’t answer, and just stared up at the white ceiling. I was obviously having a really weird dream. This made sense because I recently had a track day. Last time I went to Thunderhill I kept having mini “nightmares” afterwards of crashing. I would kick all the covers off the bed and wake up my wife. She would ask, “high-side?” I’d answer “No... lost the front. Sorry, go back to sleep”.
“Do you remember what you did this morning?” asked the smiling face.
I thought about this for a second and said, “Yeah, I woke up. I camped outside the gate.” Suddenly I remembered the sound of my bike grinding and sliding on the pavement and I thought ... ‘oh shit’. I also had a vague tank-slapper sort of nightmare that began replaying in my head.
“Do you know where you are?” asked the smiling face.
“I’m at the race track” I answered, kinda sure, but not really.
“What track?” she asked.
“Willow Springs. I mean Willows... Thunderhill...” This dream was getting too vivid. “What happened?” I asked. ( It turns out this was the fifth time I asked this particular question).
“You were in a motorcycle crash.” said the nurse.
Apparently I was NOT waking up.
“shit”
The questions continued and I noticed that there were several other people in the room. One person was talking on a radio and someone else had a blood pressure cuff on my left arm. I tried to move but I felt a stabbing pain in my right shoulder that kept me down. I knew I was fucked. I had a hell of a headache too. Funny thing...I don’t ever have headaches when I dream. I started to feel really down.
Suddenly Ron popped into the room. It was great to see a familiar face! He had brought my helmet and showed it to me. DING! Man, that explained a lot. He also told me it was the exit of turn 2 where I crashed. He was great. He got some phone numbers from me and promised to make the calls and take care of all my gear. What a great guy. I sure hope I have the opportunity to help someone out like he did for me.
My memory is spotty about the ambulance ride into town except my eyes were killing me. There was dirt all in my face and I was spitting out small rocks. The dirt was grinding the back of my eyes and I couldn’t do anything about it. No one would give me an eye wash. They were more worried about broken bones and internal injuries... go figure. At the hospital I just lied there unable to move and there was a sink right there. It was totally frustrating. I was cold too. My underwear and T-shirt were still wet from a full day of riding. It was air-conditioned in the clinic and I was shivering on-and-off to keep warm.
Then Ron and Dave both showed up! They explained where the crash happened and guided me to the conclusion that I high-sided myself. Ron reported that my wife was on the way and all my gear was stowed. They even loaded my bike, strapped it down, and gave me a good idea of the repairs it would need. Man, it was great to have these guys show up. I can’t begin to explain... I guess part of it was just being able to talk shop for a while. When I commented on their generosity Ron said “Been there” and showed me his healed collar-bone fracture. Ron said he didn’t realize it was me who went down. There was just a big cloud of dust when he came around T2. I asked about my leathers assuming they had been cut off, but they said no. They were pretty well trashed, but they had not been cut off. Really? That didn’t make sense – when I woke up I was lying on the table and they were off. Hmmm... Before they left, Ron gave me a bunch of phone numbers in case I needed anything else. Wow.
The Doc ordered a full set of x-rays. So I got wheeled to the x-ray room and had to lie in several different positions on the flat, hard table. Every time I moved I could feel the pieces of my clavicle moving around inside my shoulder. Sometimes it hurt but it was mostly just plain disgusting. I asked the radiologist about this and she replied, “The doctor wants a full series.” It started to make me nauseous after a while. The A/C was working great in that room.
After the x-rays I said I was thirsty as but they said, “no water”. They kept asking about the urine sample I couldn’t give and I kept asking about the eyewash. Except for my buddies showing up this was just about the most miserable experience I’ve ever had in my life. Eventually I pissed a couple ounces. The nurse said, “you’re dehydrated.” No kidding.
The Doc showed up and explained that my clavicle was broken into three pieces and otherwise I was mostly okay. But surgery had not been ruled out for the evening... so NO WATER. They needed a CT-scan due to the fact my bell got rung pretty hard at the track.. Unfortunately they didn’t have that equipment in Willows. I had to take a 45 minute ambulance ride to Enloe where the CT-scan could be done. They were worried about a brain-bleed or something. I’m surprised they made this evaluation so late in the game. It seems like I should have been airlifted to a better facility in the first place.
Anyhow, the same crew that took me from the track to the hospital was transporting me to Enloe for the CT-scan. I vaguely recognized them, but they sure did remember me. The driver said I was doing a lot better, and that the last time he saw me I was “talking sideways”. I asked how long I had been knocked out, and they said I was already conscious when they arrived. They said I was standing up and getting out of my leathers with the help of the local emergency crew. HOLY CRAP, I didn’t remember any of that. During the ride I was not feeling good. When I closed my eyes I could swear I was doing summersaults. The EMTs were cool but I got the feeling they weren’t telling me something. They were joking around sometimes, but mostly just ‘looking’ at me. Of course I imagined the worst-case scenario of a brain transplant or whatever. I really had no idea what to expect as the night kept getting worse.
It turns out I had nothing to worry about. The CT-scan turned out negative. I discovered that my head looks neat from the inside. I drank a gallon of water. Then I got transported back to Willows.
11:00 P.M.
I was exhausted, in pain, and hungry, but I was finally released. This ordeal had lasted almost seven hours. My wife was there. I gave her a one-armed hug and suddenly I just burst into tears. Some tough-guy, huh? I was so unsteady she had to hold me up and I couldn’t stop crying. I was just so grateful I could walk out of that building on my own. Unfortunately there was still dirt on my face so I really messed up her pretty sweater with my nose.
...
THE NEXT DAY had all the feel of a really bad hang-over. I showed up back at the track and was immediately greeted by the people who pitted next to me the day before, including Beats. He was the only BARFer I met. It turns out he was a radiologist so I let him look at my x-rays. He was totally cool. Pretty soon I was talking with a small crowd. Everyone wanted to know how I was doing and that was great. A lot of people were showing me their clavicles. It looks like I joined the club.
The guys who hauled me off the track came over to say hi. After they found out I was okay they started giving me shit like, “you were so wasted dude”. It was funny. They said I was trying to get up and I was saying my shoulder was messed up. HOLY CRAP I don’t remember any of that. So I guess I wasn’t out for very long at all, but my mental tape-recorder was broken for about 20 minutes or so. The first thing I remember is being flat on my back in the track clinic. Weird stuff.
DID I LEARN ANYTHING AT ALL????
Unfortunately nobody saw the crash and I still can’t remember it, but it’s pretty easy to figure out: T2 is a left turn and all the damage was to the right side of the bike. I broke my right collar bone and the impact to the helmet is on the right side... you do the math. Probably the back wheel spun up and stepped out a lot, I chopped the throttle, and voila! HIGH-SIDE. They tell me my bike landed pretty much in the middle of the track and slid to the infield. I vaguely remember a couple of oscillations of a tank-slapper. This makes me think that I might have been trying to save it instead of committing to a low-side.
Man, a high-side... this is pretty hard to accept.. For one thing, I had already experienced rear wheel slip in that turn and I didn’t flinch. For another thing, I’ve given this scenario a lot of thought and already decided to STAY ON THE GAS. Obviously I’m still in denial. The last time I had a high-side was twenty years ago!!! I thought I already learned my lesson, but I guess it just takes an instant of indecision.
To make myself feel better, when I got home I watched my tape of 2001 MotoGP and watched Carlos Checa toss it down the track in classic high-side style. “Look Ma! I crash just like the pros do!!”
Okay, now that I’ve fully admitted that the crash was my fault I should mention that it probably would not have happened if I had been on better tires. I was using Bridgestone BT020s ( a “sport-touring” tire) and they had over 3,000 hard miles on them including my last trackday in August. The reason I went with this tire is because I wanted to learn how to deal with reduced available traction. <BARFers may insert your wise-ass remarks here> I always hear that races often come down to tire choice and qualifying tires allow you to go faster than race tires, etc. etc. I read in Road Racing World that Yates accidentally went into a race with 40 psi in one of his tires and he suffered 3 sec per lap reduced performance. Obviously the pros go as fast as their tires let them, so how fast is that? I wanted to learn how what it feels like to be near the limit of traction and how to deal with it. I figured a less sticky tire would give me more learning opportunities. Instead I found that the BT020s hardly slipped at all. Are the new rubber compounds so damned good that even a “sport-touring” tire is pretty much “race-compound” to the average Joe? I guess so. I was getting the footpegs down with healthy throttle application and they barely squirmed.
So out of this whole experience I have one question: How DO you know when your tires are about to let go? If I knew the answer I could feel good about returning to the track. Right now though, I’m definitely spooked.
---
Sorry this is such a long post. Thanks for all the good wishes from everyone. I'll be fine.
If you don't want to read all this crap, here's the short version: I had a high-side crash at t-hill in T2 towards the end of the last session. I suffered a concussion and a complicated collar bone fracture.
First of all, the fact that this crash happened at all is terribly discouraging. I am disappointed with myself. Those of you who know me know that I approach motorcycling with safety in mind. “crash and learn” is just a joke. I like to go fast, but I always leave room for safety. I don’t go 100%... EVER. My basic plan is: don’t crash. That’s it. Some of you crash at the track and accept it as part of the game. I think that’s great. Going 100% is a fine line to walk, and crashing is the price you pay for it. But I wasn’t playing that game. My plan was to go 85- 95% and be happy with it. Enjoy my bike as it grows old and live to ride another day. Sure, I could go 100% and shave off another, what... 3 or 4 seconds, but what for? I’d still be slow! Anyhow, I thought I was being Mr. Safety out there. Crashing was totally unexpected. But getting injured, trashing my bike, and suffering a concussion put a serious hurt on my pride, not to mention that it blows a huge hole in my credibility when I try to assure family and friends that motorcycling can be a safe hobby.
So this letter is for all you folks who take your pristine street bikes out to the track planning to bring them home without a scratch because you’re playing it ‘safe’. Here’s what happened to me, and I’m sharing everything I can remember so that hopefully it won’t happen to you...
I was fully prepared. Prior to this trackday I viewed several different videos of Thunderhill to be completely familiar with the track. I had reviewed Keith Code’s books to be up to snuff on the techniques I was going to use, and I was well-rested. I also had lots of Thunderhill notes from experienced local racers so I was definitely set.
Unfortunately it turned out that I was over-prepared. I had intellectualized everything to the point that I was doing every control input as a conscious decision. I’ve heard people call this “riding in your head”. I think that’s what I was doing. I had so much information in my head that it couldn’t concentrate on just RIDING. It was too much, so my first session was timid and sketchy.
I decided to bag the plan for a while and just get a good feel for the bike. This turned out to be the perfect adjustment; the next session I was much smoother and confident. I then switched to the advanced group B so I could ride with a couple of SV650 racers (Ron and Dave) that I recently met. It turned out we were very compatible; I was faster than Ron but slower than Dave. We were able to dice it up a bit and I found this to help my concentration quite a lot.
Later I went back to my notes, but I resigned myself to the fact that I couldn’t change everything at once. If I could, I guess I’d be running 2:01 laps right? Oh well. Instead, I picked out one or two tips and took them with me into each session. This worked great.
Lunchtime at a trackday is the perfect time to evaluate how things are going. Ron remarked that I was hanging way, way off the bike. He said I resembled a “monkey in a sidecar”. I was just ‘making sure’ because it seems that no one really hangs off as far as they think. I decided that I might be overdoing it, particularly since I was dragging my knee when Ron still had about three inches to go even though we were at the same speed. Also my knee sliders were wearing down quickly, so I adopted a less extreme hang-off in the afternoon and it felt more natural. Also during lunch I showed off my completely stock YZF600. They noticed that I still had the feelers on my footpegs. I said I liked dragging parts! They suggested that I get rid of them, so I did. It was about time I graduated anyway. Nobody who spends much time at the track has feelers on their footpegs do they?
The afternoon sessions felt better. I was having a lot of fun with my favorite turn -T2. I found myself trail braking into the turn (something new), holding a lot of corner speed, and getting an early drive out. It seemed like I was going faster almost everywhere but especially T2. I dropped six seconds off my time (down to 2:15) and I still had plenty of room to improve since I was still playing it safe in a few turns. Like turns 7 and 8 which were producing a bit of wallow. My whole bike was heaving and bouncing so I didn’t push it there. But turn 2 was working great! I was glad I got rid of that footpeg feeler; it had been distracting me. I was able to get on the gas much earlier now, and I found that I was dragging the footpeg anyway. I had that turn dialed in just about perfectly (according to me). I even noticed on one lap that the back end stepped out a wee bit on the exit. It was nothing major – probably two inches – but it just felt perfect and I knew that T2 was as good as I was going to get it.
4:00 P.M.
Before the last session Ron remarked that I had gotten faster throughout the day and I agreed. I was going better than ever. I was by no means “fast” but my times were dropping consistently and that was the important thing. Here’s what I remember from the last session. Just before we hit the track I showed Dave the grindage to the left footpeg and he nodded. He waved me in front as we entered the track so he could follow for a couple laps. After his tires were warmed up he got by me easily. I tried to stick with him for a couple laps but he was too fast. I knocked my pace off a bit. Down the front straight I looked back and I didn’t see Ron either. I remember thinking it was too bad the last session was going to be kinda lonely. I’m not sure which lap that was, but I did knock my pace off a bit. It turns out my last complete lap was a 2:18 and I only had two more laps to go before the end of the session, and the end of the day...
wavy lines ~~~~ harp music ~~~~~ wavy lines ~~~~ harp music
“You were in a motorcycle crash”, said the smiling face.
I didn’t answer, and just stared up at the white ceiling. I was obviously having a really weird dream. This made sense because I recently had a track day. Last time I went to Thunderhill I kept having mini “nightmares” afterwards of crashing. I would kick all the covers off the bed and wake up my wife. She would ask, “high-side?” I’d answer “No... lost the front. Sorry, go back to sleep”.
“Do you remember what you did this morning?” asked the smiling face.
I thought about this for a second and said, “Yeah, I woke up. I camped outside the gate.” Suddenly I remembered the sound of my bike grinding and sliding on the pavement and I thought ... ‘oh shit’. I also had a vague tank-slapper sort of nightmare that began replaying in my head.
“Do you know where you are?” asked the smiling face.
“I’m at the race track” I answered, kinda sure, but not really.
“What track?” she asked.
“Willow Springs. I mean Willows... Thunderhill...” This dream was getting too vivid. “What happened?” I asked. ( It turns out this was the fifth time I asked this particular question).
“You were in a motorcycle crash.” said the nurse.
Apparently I was NOT waking up.
“shit”
The questions continued and I noticed that there were several other people in the room. One person was talking on a radio and someone else had a blood pressure cuff on my left arm. I tried to move but I felt a stabbing pain in my right shoulder that kept me down. I knew I was fucked. I had a hell of a headache too. Funny thing...I don’t ever have headaches when I dream. I started to feel really down.
Suddenly Ron popped into the room. It was great to see a familiar face! He had brought my helmet and showed it to me. DING! Man, that explained a lot. He also told me it was the exit of turn 2 where I crashed. He was great. He got some phone numbers from me and promised to make the calls and take care of all my gear. What a great guy. I sure hope I have the opportunity to help someone out like he did for me.
My memory is spotty about the ambulance ride into town except my eyes were killing me. There was dirt all in my face and I was spitting out small rocks. The dirt was grinding the back of my eyes and I couldn’t do anything about it. No one would give me an eye wash. They were more worried about broken bones and internal injuries... go figure. At the hospital I just lied there unable to move and there was a sink right there. It was totally frustrating. I was cold too. My underwear and T-shirt were still wet from a full day of riding. It was air-conditioned in the clinic and I was shivering on-and-off to keep warm.
Then Ron and Dave both showed up! They explained where the crash happened and guided me to the conclusion that I high-sided myself. Ron reported that my wife was on the way and all my gear was stowed. They even loaded my bike, strapped it down, and gave me a good idea of the repairs it would need. Man, it was great to have these guys show up. I can’t begin to explain... I guess part of it was just being able to talk shop for a while. When I commented on their generosity Ron said “Been there” and showed me his healed collar-bone fracture. Ron said he didn’t realize it was me who went down. There was just a big cloud of dust when he came around T2. I asked about my leathers assuming they had been cut off, but they said no. They were pretty well trashed, but they had not been cut off. Really? That didn’t make sense – when I woke up I was lying on the table and they were off. Hmmm... Before they left, Ron gave me a bunch of phone numbers in case I needed anything else. Wow.
The Doc ordered a full set of x-rays. So I got wheeled to the x-ray room and had to lie in several different positions on the flat, hard table. Every time I moved I could feel the pieces of my clavicle moving around inside my shoulder. Sometimes it hurt but it was mostly just plain disgusting. I asked the radiologist about this and she replied, “The doctor wants a full series.” It started to make me nauseous after a while. The A/C was working great in that room.
After the x-rays I said I was thirsty as but they said, “no water”. They kept asking about the urine sample I couldn’t give and I kept asking about the eyewash. Except for my buddies showing up this was just about the most miserable experience I’ve ever had in my life. Eventually I pissed a couple ounces. The nurse said, “you’re dehydrated.” No kidding.
The Doc showed up and explained that my clavicle was broken into three pieces and otherwise I was mostly okay. But surgery had not been ruled out for the evening... so NO WATER. They needed a CT-scan due to the fact my bell got rung pretty hard at the track.. Unfortunately they didn’t have that equipment in Willows. I had to take a 45 minute ambulance ride to Enloe where the CT-scan could be done. They were worried about a brain-bleed or something. I’m surprised they made this evaluation so late in the game. It seems like I should have been airlifted to a better facility in the first place.
Anyhow, the same crew that took me from the track to the hospital was transporting me to Enloe for the CT-scan. I vaguely recognized them, but they sure did remember me. The driver said I was doing a lot better, and that the last time he saw me I was “talking sideways”. I asked how long I had been knocked out, and they said I was already conscious when they arrived. They said I was standing up and getting out of my leathers with the help of the local emergency crew. HOLY CRAP, I didn’t remember any of that. During the ride I was not feeling good. When I closed my eyes I could swear I was doing summersaults. The EMTs were cool but I got the feeling they weren’t telling me something. They were joking around sometimes, but mostly just ‘looking’ at me. Of course I imagined the worst-case scenario of a brain transplant or whatever. I really had no idea what to expect as the night kept getting worse.
It turns out I had nothing to worry about. The CT-scan turned out negative. I discovered that my head looks neat from the inside. I drank a gallon of water. Then I got transported back to Willows.
11:00 P.M.
I was exhausted, in pain, and hungry, but I was finally released. This ordeal had lasted almost seven hours. My wife was there. I gave her a one-armed hug and suddenly I just burst into tears. Some tough-guy, huh? I was so unsteady she had to hold me up and I couldn’t stop crying. I was just so grateful I could walk out of that building on my own. Unfortunately there was still dirt on my face so I really messed up her pretty sweater with my nose.
...
THE NEXT DAY had all the feel of a really bad hang-over. I showed up back at the track and was immediately greeted by the people who pitted next to me the day before, including Beats. He was the only BARFer I met. It turns out he was a radiologist so I let him look at my x-rays. He was totally cool. Pretty soon I was talking with a small crowd. Everyone wanted to know how I was doing and that was great. A lot of people were showing me their clavicles. It looks like I joined the club.
The guys who hauled me off the track came over to say hi. After they found out I was okay they started giving me shit like, “you were so wasted dude”. It was funny. They said I was trying to get up and I was saying my shoulder was messed up. HOLY CRAP I don’t remember any of that. So I guess I wasn’t out for very long at all, but my mental tape-recorder was broken for about 20 minutes or so. The first thing I remember is being flat on my back in the track clinic. Weird stuff.
DID I LEARN ANYTHING AT ALL????
Unfortunately nobody saw the crash and I still can’t remember it, but it’s pretty easy to figure out: T2 is a left turn and all the damage was to the right side of the bike. I broke my right collar bone and the impact to the helmet is on the right side... you do the math. Probably the back wheel spun up and stepped out a lot, I chopped the throttle, and voila! HIGH-SIDE. They tell me my bike landed pretty much in the middle of the track and slid to the infield. I vaguely remember a couple of oscillations of a tank-slapper. This makes me think that I might have been trying to save it instead of committing to a low-side.
Man, a high-side... this is pretty hard to accept.. For one thing, I had already experienced rear wheel slip in that turn and I didn’t flinch. For another thing, I’ve given this scenario a lot of thought and already decided to STAY ON THE GAS. Obviously I’m still in denial. The last time I had a high-side was twenty years ago!!! I thought I already learned my lesson, but I guess it just takes an instant of indecision.
To make myself feel better, when I got home I watched my tape of 2001 MotoGP and watched Carlos Checa toss it down the track in classic high-side style. “Look Ma! I crash just like the pros do!!”
Okay, now that I’ve fully admitted that the crash was my fault I should mention that it probably would not have happened if I had been on better tires. I was using Bridgestone BT020s ( a “sport-touring” tire) and they had over 3,000 hard miles on them including my last trackday in August. The reason I went with this tire is because I wanted to learn how to deal with reduced available traction. <BARFers may insert your wise-ass remarks here> I always hear that races often come down to tire choice and qualifying tires allow you to go faster than race tires, etc. etc. I read in Road Racing World that Yates accidentally went into a race with 40 psi in one of his tires and he suffered 3 sec per lap reduced performance. Obviously the pros go as fast as their tires let them, so how fast is that? I wanted to learn how what it feels like to be near the limit of traction and how to deal with it. I figured a less sticky tire would give me more learning opportunities. Instead I found that the BT020s hardly slipped at all. Are the new rubber compounds so damned good that even a “sport-touring” tire is pretty much “race-compound” to the average Joe? I guess so. I was getting the footpegs down with healthy throttle application and they barely squirmed.
So out of this whole experience I have one question: How DO you know when your tires are about to let go? If I knew the answer I could feel good about returning to the track. Right now though, I’m definitely spooked.
---
Sorry this is such a long post. Thanks for all the good wishes from everyone. I'll be fine.