Tuesday, October 8, 2013



The best word I can think of (and use too much) to describe August 31, 2013.

Most of you know about the crash I was in that day, but I don't know how many folks know the "ins and outs" of it. And I know that pretty much everyone wants to know what happened and what it's like from the perspective of one who was crashed into. So in this post I hope that I can explain what happened in a clear way and also communicate that, besides a broken leg, I'm doing really well.

On to the day in question.

I had a Saturday off, those of you who work in the food industry know what a gift that is. I woke up early (eight) because I was supposed to meet Phillip at his house to change the oil on my motorcycle at one o'clock, and I wanted to be productive. I went to Crema to read (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance) for a couple of hours, and then headed into Hillsboro Village to check out the used bookstore and eat some lunch. After a pretty solid brat at The Dog of Nashville I hopped on the bike and headed down Wedgewood to go home and change my jeans, so as to not get my I+W's dirty.

Coming up to 12th I noticed that there was a car readying itself to turn left, but it looked like it was waiting. I hit the white stripe which indicates the beginning of the intersection and immediately saw that the car was indeed turning, directly into my path. I tried to swerve to my right and the next thing I remember is being hit, being upside down, my head hitting the pavement, my body smashing into the ground, my leg flying in front of my, my ankle and foot moving in ways that God never intended. I finally came to rest laying in the middle of 12th and Wedgewood with the car that broke me resting on my right side.

While laying there I saw that blood was dripping from my right leg (the wonky one) so I ripped off my belt and started to wrap it around my right thigh. A man ran into my field of vision and grabbed it from my, telling me "oh buddy! You're gonna be ok!" I retrieved my phone from my pocket, pressed the home button, and siri chimed in.

"CALL 911!" I said, as calm as you'd expect.

"Calling Abigail Higgins," she responded obviously not understanding the pickle we were in.

Some words went thru my head, and now I had to not only deal with a broken leg but a cell phone that was calling one my my former campers. I turned it off and threw it down, deciding instead to focus on other things with my life.

The lady who ran into me got out of her car, ran over, and started to be as encouraging as possible given the situation she had put us both in. I don't know what my tone is suggesting in this post, but I couldn't possibly be more grateful for the hand to hold and the words to take my mind off of reality.

All this seemed to happen almost instantaneously. The ambulance came five minutes later and checked me out, hauled me up, and took me away. The entire process of riding, crashing, and riding again took forty-five minutes.

As far as pain goes, I can't say much about that. Remember "indian rug burns" in elementary school? That's what it felt like...as if someone grabbed my leg and was twisting and twisting and twisting. It hurt, yeah, but there was so much more to think about that I couldn't focus on the pain. And who would want to?

So there you have it. Five or six weeks ago I was in a crash. I now have a rod in my leg, some badass scars (and some not-so-badass road rash), and the newfound ability to walk around on crutches. I'm more blessed that I could have possibly thought with the people in my life, but I'm sure I'll have more to say on that later.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to ask any questions or say anything in response.


1 comment:

  1. I imagine Andy's mentioned that I had a similar incident last Thursday. I'd rather share war stories about great roads out east than compare fractures, sir, but I'm glad you (and both of us) are okay.

    Sounds like you've also had lots of people get angry at the driver on your behalf. Even at my crash site, I had no anger towards her; in fact I wanted someone to help her out, since she was nowhere near as clear-headed as your driver. (She wasn't injured, but she sounded distraught.) Fortunately I had lots of other people there in a blink to help, and my "Siri" was a bystander with a phone. My call was to the shop to call my wife and come pick up the broken motorcycle.