When I first started riding, I thought my inexperience would result in me coming off at every corner. Perhaps my choice of first bike - a particularly sexy GSX-R600 K3 - wasn't the best for someone who, a week earlier, had never even sat on a motorbike. On my second day of solo riding, I had my first moment of terror. I was enjoying my newfound freedom, taking in the twists and turns of the B645 in Cambridgeshire, between St Neots and Higham Ferrers. The route in question was one I'd travelled many times before in various silly, unnecessarily noisy cars. I know the road like the back of my hand; every bend, every bump, and every degree of camber. However, whilst I was used to making the most of those bends in lightweight sports cars running on cut slicks, I'd yet to realise how different a beast motorcycles are.
It was the typical newbie error of pilling into a corner too quickly, panicking and grabbing a fistful of the front brake. In hindsight, I know the bike would have easily made it around the bend without me soiling myself, but it's hard to break that automatic action of going for the brakes. As you'd expect, the bike stood bolt upright, and the laws of physics prepared to claim another inexperienced motorcyclist. Thankfully, a side road halfway around the bend was to be my saviour. The bike rolled on, clipping a grass verge, sending a cloud of dust into the air but ultimately making it into the side road of salvation. I decided this would be a good time to stop, have a cigarette and check my underwear for damage—all good!
That experience changed my riding. Everything was slower, calmer and more measured. It provided a realisation that, despite having earned a category A licence, I knew very little about bikes regarding handling and performance. I feared a similar moment for quite some time, but it wasn't until ten years later that I had my first proper off.
"Where's my bike? Is it ok?"
That was the question I repeatedly fired at friends, family and doctors as they loomed over my hospital bed. I'd had quite a bump to the head, and my short-term memory was very broken. A close friend later revealed that he came incredibly close to smothering me with a pillow after the 27th time of asking. Although I still have no memory of what exactly happened to put me in hospital, I later read through a vast pile of witness statements and the police report. The abridged version is that, whilst riding home from work in lane one of the A14, a young lad in a Fiesta failed to notice that traffic in lane two - the lane he was driving in - had come to a standstill. His evasive manoeuvre was to swerve into lane one and stand on the brakes. The witnesses stated I had no time to react and rode into the back of his car at around 60mph. The impact launched me from the bike, and my Shoei-wrapped head smashed his rear window and put a severe dent in the car's C-pillar. That would explain the memory issues, then.
After a few days of asking my favourite question, I received my answer, courtesy of the police. The bike was no more. My two-year-old Yamaha FZ8 had, apparently, pretty much dissolved on impact. The destruction of the FZ8 was probably a blessing in disguise. In the weeks preceding its demise, I was looking to sell it and was slightly dismayed that I would probably only have received about £4,000 for it in a private sale. It was, therefore, fortunate that the insurance company decided to cut me a cheque for £4,800. However, I can't recommend writing off a Fiesta with your skull as the best method for achieving good value when getting rid of your bike. My insurance also covered the cost of replacing all my gear. Annoyingly, the gear in question was only two days old and included a fantastic Dainese Gator jacket and the literal life-saving Shoei XR1100 helmet. The payment also included the cost of replacing my Kriega R35, which the paramedics had to cut from my body.
Apologies for the terrible photos, but I didn't take many at the time. The image of the helmet is possibly the most interesting. There are some significant scratches on the visor and a few scuffs around the chin area, but you'd probably never guess its recent use as a battering ram. If you ever find yourself contemplating buying a used helmet, think about the picture of my XR1100. Despite any reassurances you may receive from the seller, you never know what kind of a life it's had.
I'm thankful I don't have any memory of my first off. I suspect that if I could have recalled the incident in detail, it would have been enough to put me off riding, possibly forever. Five years later, the events surrounding my second incident confirm that suspicion.
Second time unlucky
My second - and I truly hope final - incident was in October 2019. I was bouncing to work on my 2017 Africa Twin DCT and was taken out by a van driver failing to stop at a red light on a busy roundabout. It wasn't a case of the van driver sneaking through on a dodgy amber, either. The traffic light had been red for a full seven seconds before the van driver decided he'd go for it. He smashed into the right side of the Africa Twin, crushing my leg between his bumper and the bike's frame. To say it hurt was a bit of an understatement. Actually, it didn't hurt for the first few minutes. I had enough adrenaline coursing through my body in the first few minutes post-collision to reel off a string of profanity, grab a few witnesses and find someone with a cigarette and lighter.
It was excruciating when the adrenaline finally wore off. My lower right leg felt like it had been dipped in acid and then stung by a thousand angry bees. I suspect the injury may not have been as bad had I been wearing my beefy Alpinestars enduro boots rather than the shorty boots I chose that morning. The much taller enduro boot would've taken the brunt of the impact, and whilst it wouldn't have been able to dissipate all of the energy from the collision, it would've protected me far more than the shorties. Thankfully, an ambulance, along with the police, arrived moments later. The paramedics and the officers in attendance were marvellous and a real credit to their respective professions. It was also incredibly warming to see how many members of the public rushed to help as I lay sandwiched between the bike and a van, though that may have been because they wanted me out of the way so they could continue to work. Who knows. I'll spare you the details of what happened next, but I was at home by noon with a very sore leg, crutches and some tasty painkillers.
Although the physiological damage of this accident was relatively minor, the psychological damage got me. Things weren't the same by the time I was fit enough to ride again. The usual focus I enjoyed while riding was clouded by an underlying fear that it could and would happen again. The usual confidence in riding was replaced by a feeling of immense vulnerability. I'd never been afraid of bikes before - not even after the Fiesta headbutting incident - but now I was struggling. In the following months, I was making excuses for not going out on the bike and reasoning why a car was so much better. The excuses became a lot easier after the pandemic struck and the first lockdown started. Inside my garage stood an Africa Twin and a Fireblade SP, and I was actively looking for reasons to ride them. I was in a pretty bad place.
It took a long time for those feelings to dissipate and for me to get back to enjoying riding. You can never underestimate the psychological damage from a collision and how it might affect you. In my case, it lasted a lot longer than the physical damage.
Lessons learned
Coming off hurts, whether you're punted off your bike because of someone else's mistake or your own error of judgement. The cause seems less relevant when you're waking up in hospital, desperately trying to remember how you got there. I consider myself quite lucky in that both incidents could've resulted in significantly worse outcomes - many others haven't been so fortunate. It goes without saying that I hope I don't have another off, but sadly it's not an impossibility. So what can we do to lessen the chances of an incident and the damage from one?
- Wear proper gear: A helmet is the only legal requirement, and although it saved my life in my first incident, it didn't play any part in my second. Had I been wearing my enduro boots when struck by the van, I'm sure my injuries would've been less severe. Make sure your kit is of decent quality, in good condition and fits properly.
- Training: Even if you don't have the time or will to engage in IAM or RoSPA courses, I would thoroughly recommend booking yourself on a police-managed BikeSafe course. It'll set you back about £65, and I promise it will open your eyes to various riding techniques and practices to mitigate the chances of an incident.
- Don't be afraid to ask for help: The psychological damage post-incident can be hard to deal with. If you're affected by it and feel like giving up riding, it may be worth talking to a therapist or receiving some counselling. There's no stigma around this, and it can help restore your love for riding.
We love to ride. Let's do our best to make sure we can keep doing it.
