Ever since I was a little boy I have been intrigued by mangled metal. That is how I became
a NASCAR fan. I would sit for hours watching a race just waiting for a wreck. If the race ended without
incident, I was bummed. That was a long time ago. Now I like racing for the art of the teamwork. I think it
also had something to do with the fact that I grew up in a car dealership. I would watch mangled cars get
towed in to the body shop for repairs. They would come in all twisted up & a few days later look as good
as new. Oh, make no mistake, I have mangled a few myself. Now a days instead of cracking them up, I
collect photos of them all cracked up. I will share a few with you. You can CLICK ANY PHOTO ON ANY PAGE
TO GET A BETTER LOOK!
It is one thing to look at photos of the aftermath and say to yourself, "WOW!" but it is
another to actually be the unfortunate participant of such an event. In twenty-five years of
driving I have personally twisted up about fifteen vehicles (maybe one or two more). I say
that because I can only remember the big ones. When I say 'big' I mean this, either they
were very costly to repair or the situation that surrounded them left quite an impression on
my psyche. When you average it out over twenty five years of driving, I have had an accident every year
and a half. For those of you sharing the road with me, let me say 2005 was my last incident. Seriously
though, most of my crashes took place during my early years of driving and not all of them were my fault.
Of course I would say that right? Really, they were not all my fault. The bright side of all this is, I have
never been hospitalized as a result of automotive accident. Now motorcycles; that is a different story. If
you got some time, I will tell about a few of my adventures behind the wheel. Most of them are pretty
comical.
My first car accident took place about seven years before I even got my driver’s license. I was nine years
old. There was this big open field down behind the house where we lived where the local
boys would gather to ride their dirt bikes. This space was about the size of four football
fields. Toward the end the flat dirt pad was divided by a two lane black top road. On one
side was a drainage pipe which was about ten feet below the road. Next to the pipe was
a trail. If you rode down the trail it was just a trial, if you rode up it, it was a jump.
The older boys would launch off of it to see who could jump over the road landing on the dirt pad on the
other side of the road where they would turn around to comeback and do it again. At the time I was riding
a 50cc mini-bike. Most of the older boys had 125 & 250 cc cycles. At that time I was too young to realize
that it took horse power to get that kind of air. I thought it was all about speed. Anyway, I wanted to fit in
so I decided to give this jump a try. My bike was not that fast so I had to go way way back to get a good
long running start. Usually somebody sat by the road and watched for traffic when somebody else was
getting ready to jump. Hind sight tells me that these guys knew I would not clear the road so they all sat
there at the edge of the ramp watching as I raced toward the launch point.
Now, there are a couple of things I gotta tell ya. One, my little Honda was not build to fly.
It was a dirt trail mini-bike not a motocross machine. I did not know this at the time. Two,
brakes don’t work in the air. I did not know that then either. Anyway I started down this
trail full out. About three quarters of the way down I noticed the guys all waving their arms.
I thought they were cheering me on. They weren't. They were trying to get me to stop. I was so focused
on keeping my not so easy to handle bike aimed at the ramp that I did not pay them as much attention as I
should have. By the time I got to the base of jump I was in third gear which was all I had. I was at my top
speed of maybe twenty five and ready to fly. That was when I realized that they were trying to tell me that
a car was coming. TOO LATE! I was wide open and lifting off. Now let me give you a quick flying lesson. In
the air (on a bike) you can pitch it forward or backwards by using the brakes. If your goal is to fly high and
far, you use very little brake at all. My goal was to fly high and far but the waving arms sent me into a
panic so as soon as my bike left the ground I locked up the brakes
both front and back. Whoosh, up, up, and away I went, down, down, down, I came – crash
right into the side of a car passing by. Ouch. At the end of the day, I had done more damage to the
car than myself or my bike. I actually did more damage to the car than my bike cost new. My Dad paid for it
and then found me a job so I could pay him back. That incidentally is what lead to crash number two.
CLICK HERE TO READ ABOUT IT
a NASCAR fan. I would sit for hours watching a race just waiting for a wreck. If the race ended without
incident, I was bummed. That was a long time ago. Now I like racing for the art of the teamwork. I think it
also had something to do with the fact that I grew up in a car dealership. I would watch mangled cars get
towed in to the body shop for repairs. They would come in all twisted up & a few days later look as good
as new. Oh, make no mistake, I have mangled a few myself. Now a days instead of cracking them up, I
collect photos of them all cracked up. I will share a few with you. You can CLICK ANY PHOTO ON ANY PAGE
TO GET A BETTER LOOK!
It is one thing to look at photos of the aftermath and say to yourself, "WOW!" but it is
another to actually be the unfortunate participant of such an event. In twenty-five years of
driving I have personally twisted up about fifteen vehicles (maybe one or two more). I say
that because I can only remember the big ones. When I say 'big' I mean this, either they
were very costly to repair or the situation that surrounded them left quite an impression on
my psyche. When you average it out over twenty five years of driving, I have had an accident every year
and a half. For those of you sharing the road with me, let me say 2005 was my last incident. Seriously
though, most of my crashes took place during my early years of driving and not all of them were my fault.
Of course I would say that right? Really, they were not all my fault. The bright side of all this is, I have
never been hospitalized as a result of automotive accident. Now motorcycles; that is a different story. If
you got some time, I will tell about a few of my adventures behind the wheel. Most of them are pretty
comical.
My first car accident took place about seven years before I even got my driver’s license. I was nine years
old. There was this big open field down behind the house where we lived where the local
boys would gather to ride their dirt bikes. This space was about the size of four football
fields. Toward the end the flat dirt pad was divided by a two lane black top road. On one
side was a drainage pipe which was about ten feet below the road. Next to the pipe was
a trail. If you rode down the trail it was just a trial, if you rode up it, it was a jump.
The older boys would launch off of it to see who could jump over the road landing on the dirt pad on the
other side of the road where they would turn around to comeback and do it again. At the time I was riding
a 50cc mini-bike. Most of the older boys had 125 & 250 cc cycles. At that time I was too young to realize
that it took horse power to get that kind of air. I thought it was all about speed. Anyway, I wanted to fit in
so I decided to give this jump a try. My bike was not that fast so I had to go way way back to get a good
long running start. Usually somebody sat by the road and watched for traffic when somebody else was
getting ready to jump. Hind sight tells me that these guys knew I would not clear the road so they all sat
there at the edge of the ramp watching as I raced toward the launch point.
Now, there are a couple of things I gotta tell ya. One, my little Honda was not build to fly.
It was a dirt trail mini-bike not a motocross machine. I did not know this at the time. Two,
brakes don’t work in the air. I did not know that then either. Anyway I started down this
trail full out. About three quarters of the way down I noticed the guys all waving their arms.
I thought they were cheering me on. They weren't. They were trying to get me to stop. I was so focused
on keeping my not so easy to handle bike aimed at the ramp that I did not pay them as much attention as I
should have. By the time I got to the base of jump I was in third gear which was all I had. I was at my top
speed of maybe twenty five and ready to fly. That was when I realized that they were trying to tell me that
a car was coming. TOO LATE! I was wide open and lifting off. Now let me give you a quick flying lesson. In
the air (on a bike) you can pitch it forward or backwards by using the brakes. If your goal is to fly high and
far, you use very little brake at all. My goal was to fly high and far but the waving arms sent me into a
panic so as soon as my bike left the ground I locked up the brakes
both front and back. Whoosh, up, up, and away I went, down, down, down, I came – crash
right into the side of a car passing by. Ouch. At the end of the day, I had done more damage to the
car than myself or my bike. I actually did more damage to the car than my bike cost new. My Dad paid for it
and then found me a job so I could pay him back. That incidentally is what lead to crash number two.
CLICK HERE TO READ ABOUT IT
| CRASH DUMMY July 2008 |
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