We have all heard the adage about there being two kinds of motorcyclists: those who have crashed, and those who will. I don't agree with the philosophy, but I have now joined the ranks of those who have.

One evening last December about 6 p.m., I was returning from having Scarlett, my red '96 GL1500 SE, reshod with a front Michelin radial and new front brake pads. I had ridden about two hours from Ed's Honda of South Boston, Virginia, and was only six miles from home. A steady drizzle had replaced the afternoon rain, and although it was just about dark, visibility was very good. I was pulling my Cycle Mate trailer. The county road was an asphalt, hilly, curvy two-laner with quite a few intersecting side streets and not much shoulder. The speed limit is 40 mph, but I was traveling at 30-35 mph due to the conditions.

On a downhill stretch, a car appeared suddenly from a divided subdivision entrance, blew through the stop sign and made a right turn into the lane directly in front of me. I swerved left, then applied all brakes, but Scarlett went down on her left side quicker than it took to read this sentence. I came off the bike at that point, and began a slide I will never forget down the oncoming lane. We (the bike, trailer and I) must have spun around (360s) two or three times. The combination of the wet roadway and my full PVC rain-suit produced a friction factor approaching zero. I kept thinking to myself, "Is this ride ever going to end?" At the same time, I was praying I wouldn't hit the vehicle that had caused this or a car in the oncoming lane. As luck would have it, we made it. The bike and trailer slid into the ditch on the left side of the road, then I slid into them.

I got up and checked all of my appendages—they all seemed to be okay. Then I looked at Scarlett. What a mess! She was lying perpendicular to the roadway, her front wheel was up the embankment on the far side of the ditch, and her trailer hitch was dug into the mud on the near side. The trailer was jackknifed against the right rear of the bike. Thanks to a 360-degree swivel hitch, it did not appear to have flipped and looked unscathed.

All of the stuff that had been in the Wing's travel trunk was now scattered across the road and into the ditch, including my brand new $700 digital camera. The trunk lid had popped open during the slide.

I called my wife, Kathy, on my cell phone, and asked her to contact someone with a trailer to come and help us. The police arrived and wrote the young lady a ticket for failure to yield the right of way. A fellow in the car that had been immediately behind me saw the whole thing; he stopped and willingly gave the police a statement.

Two GWRRA friends from Chapter VAD (Steve Mathlery and Ken Moore) appeared, but with no trailer. Together, we stood the bike up and slid the front wheel down the slope to get the trailer hitch free. Amazingly, her engine started right up, so, carefully balancing her, we used the reverse gear to back her out of the ditch and onto the road. I rode the bike over to where my friends had pulled the trailer, hooked it up, and rode to Ken's house, where we assessed the damage. Scarlett looked really sad with her fairing cracked and her left mirror hanging, but everything seemed to work including the lights. So I rode her home, with Kathy leading in the car and two other Chapter VAW friends (Ray Baker and Butch Hazlett) who had arrived with a trailer, bringing up the rear.

Let me tell you, these Gold Wings are really fantastic machines. Damage to the bike was limited to the fairing, left saddlebag and cover, dashboard, left mirror, and some small fairing pieces found to be missing. The left front and rear safety (crash) bars have flat spots (one is half an inch deep) worn into them from the slide.

Ed's Honda estimated $5,300 for repairs including labor. (Oh, well, that's what insurance is for.) The real "damage"

to me (aside from a few bruises) has been to my pride. I have more than 30 years of safe motorcycle operation, numerous MSF-ERC courses, GWRRA Level III certification, and MSF instructor certification. I have traveled in excess of 25O,OOO miles by motorcycle and had lOO,OOO GWRRA safe miles. I have been extremely proud of these accomplishments. Now there is a cloud on my record, but at least I am here to write this. Fortunately, the young lady did stop her car, and she had insurance through State Farm (as do I), so everything will be taken care of easily.

I have been back to the scene, and taken photographs (alas, not with the destroyed digital camera). I have tried to analyze how this crash happened. As a certified MSF instructor, I want to understand what went wrong, because I know almost always things can be done to avoid accidents. In this case, the only thing I know I could have done differently was to not have been be there at that point in time. Had I not swerved, then applied the brakes, I would have slammed into her. I probably could have been going slower, but 5-10 mph slower than the speed limit seemed a good compromise on this heavily traveled road. Maybe this was one of those times when I just should have sat out the rain. Sometimes, stuff just happens. I will not make excuses. I chose to ride under less than perfect conditions as I have done for years and probably will continue to do.

In the future I will be very cautious at this intersection, as during my investigation of the scene, two other cars "rolled through" the same stop sign.

Now, back to my original statement, and the philosophy about those who have crashed and those who will. I should now be safe from having another accident, right? Well, gang, that's why I don't agree with that philosophy. I know I am just as vulnerable today as I was on the day of the accident.

Think about it: would you prefer to fly in a commercial plane with a pilot who has recently had a crash, or with one who has millions of accident-free miles? To me the analogy holds true. Every time we throw a leg over a bike and hit the highway, there is a risk of having an accident. That risk varies depending on the conditions, but it is never gone. We lessen our exposure to risk by training, practicing, and by being prepared.

I am extremely lucky to be here today. None of the skills garnered in 30-plus years of riding, nor all of the courses and training I have had, prevented this situation. But, they changed the severity of the outcome. If I had just grabbed brakes instead of swerving and braking, I probably would have hit the car at 30—35 mph with an entirely different result. I was also extremely lucky no one was traveling in the oncoming lane during my slide for life, because once that had begun, I was just along for the ride.

Thanks for listening to my story. If this convinces someone to take an MSF course, or to simply go out and practice their skills in a parking lot, I will be most pleased. That one act may be what prevents you from becoming one of those who have a crash in their immediate future.

Reproduced here with permission of Nick Hoppner, Editor - Wing World Magazine. This article originally appeared on page 40 of the March 1998 issue.