I witnessed something scary today and thought I'd share. Actually, we witnessed something scary, but this is more about my reaction (hey, it is my blog), so I'll use the singular.
The other half and I learned of a new Latin-American biker group here in Jax, and were happily socializing with them over a late breakfast at a Cuban restaurant. They cordially invited us to join in a poker run that would go on all day long. We declined the invitation, but said that in the spirit of socializing, we'd follow the group to their first stop, meet a few more group members, then depart for the day, back to our original plan of finishing work on the second guest room ceiling.
The motorcade departed, I'm guessing there were upwards of 25 bikes there, most with passengers on the back. We rode in formation, us bringing up the rear, being the newest and still non-members. Whilst I do not like riding on the back of a motorcycle, I dislike it less when we're in a large formation. It's slower, and although cars are still not respectful, they're less likely to not see you than when you're alone. Plus, this group is comprised largely of off-duty police officers, so it felt safe. We had made it almost 15 miles back, close to our house, and were on the lower south end of the Dame's Point bridge when it happened.
I heard a loud metal "CA-CHINK" sound, and thought maybe one of the bikes had dropped a part (non-Harley owners are always ribbing Harley owners that due to all the vibration, they're always dropping parts on the road), and looking at our group, I saw someone making the "I need attention" hand signal - tapping their hand repeatedly on top of their helmet. Luckily, prior to departure, our road chief had given us all a quick rundown of the hand signals they use to travel in formation safely - and this was one we all memorized. It's what you do to call attention to yourself, if your bike sounds or is acting funny, or if you need help. So those of us in the back saw this, and let him pass over to the right berm on the bridge. Several bikers continued on, thinking it was not serious. We pulled over behind the guy in trouble.
That's when I saw the blood. Lots and lots of blood. Apparently the metallic sound I'd heard had been the result of a car kicking up what may have been part of a broken hubcap, and sending it into our formation. The unfortunate biker (I'll call him "Ed") had been hit on the left side of his face, somewhere near his ear, by the object. We were driving about 60 mph at the time of the accident, and it was very windy on the bridge. Ed was wearing a half-helmet, the type my other half (stupidly) favors, which leaves your face exposed to all kinds of dangers.
We had to wait a few seconds for traffic to allow us to dismount, as the berm was not very wide compared to our monster bike, and in this time we just watched Ed hold his face, still sitting on his bike, keeping it standing under his own power, just bleeding like crazy. You can see what the bike looked like (above) afterwards.
Others had pulled over as well, and we all reached Ed at about the same time. Someone wadded up a shirt and pressed it to his wound, others secured his bike, and others slowly helped him off of the bike and seated him with his back against the outer bridge wall.
Before they even had him off of the bike, I was calling 911. It took a few iterations (I'm sure the wind was not helping the operator to hear me), but eventually they dispatched police and ambulance. Luckily, I actually knew where I was, for ONCE, so I could tell them specifically where we were. It took the cops at least 5 minutes to get there, and the ambulance another 5. I directed traffic away from the scene while we were waiting - it's a 3-lane highway right where this occurred, and I didn't want traffic piling up on the bridge and possibly causing another accident. Plus, it gave me something productive (and hopefully helpful) to do rather than gawk helplessly at the poor guy.
We left the scene when the ambulance showed up, to give them access (since we were parked right behind his bike), and met up with the rest of the group who were pulled over a little ways ahead. They told us we would all rendezvous at a gas station close by, and the whole group was waiting there.
Eventually the club president arrived and announced that Ed was going to be ok, he had refused the ambulance ride and was able to walk to his wife's car to go to the hospital.
Although it was encouraging to see how this group handled an emergency, we were both so freaked out from our proximity to the whole thing that we decided just to go home from that point.
As per my usual: I was calm and like Jenny-on-the-Spot during the crisis, but I reacted badly to it later. I got very snappish with the other half when we got back, perhaps somewhat unfairly, but my tolerance for his stubborn, selfish preference in helmets had been pushed beyond its limit today.
He rants and rails about how he hates full-face helmets, they're wrong for his type of bike (this is pure vanity), heavy (but expensive ones are light, I remind him), hot (good ones like mine have vents), and limit his vision (again, a good one shoudn't...much). This has been the one fight that he and I have never resolved in our marriage. We pretty much end up disagreeing on this one every single time.
Those of you who know me know it's very unlike me to back down from my position in an argument, especially when I'm right (and to me, I'm always right), but we've gone around and around about this one issue, and it's never resolved to my satisfaction. Meaning, I don't get my way.
Here's the thing: I'm not telling him what kind of helmet to use to control him, which I think is what he believes. If I wanted to control him, I'd tell him NO BIKE. Which I'd love to do, but it would kill a part of him, and I do want the man to be happy. Or I'd tell him which friends to have, what clothes to wear, which food to eat. None of which I even remotely attempt to do. I tell him what kind of helmet to wear because I love him, and I'm concerned for his safety. And mine! If he gets hurt like Ed did, while I'm on the back, what happens to moi? I'm not totally altruistic. Or stupid.
That's why this argument galls me to no end. It's not for my benefit, it's for his. Yet he still refuses. I broached the subject (once I apologized for snapping at him) and told him he's a bigger idiot than I suspected if after witnessing this, he still wore that stupid excuse for a half-helmet - not even D.O.T. approved. And that the universe, or his God, or whatever his 'higher power' is, wanted him to witness that today to teach him something, and it was his responsibility to learn from it.
So we'll see. I'm not really sure what's going to happen, but I really feel the need to put my foot down this time. After witnessing the accident today, anytime he rides without me (or with me), I'm sure I'm going to be more anxious than I was before, and I need that reassurance that he's at least as protected as possible from his own recklessness, and the recklessness of others, and from freak road hazards, by his equipment.
Wish me luck.
