HOM: CRASH

Since the PG was back at 32nd street but I was spending my free time with friends in Ocean Beach on the opposite end of San Diego, I decided I needed wheels. Juggling schedules for the bus routes got old fast and taxis were too expensive for regular use. Chief Labrecque was gone, I think he requested a transfer before his nerves gave completely out trying to cope with the orangutans he had been saddled with. His replacement was a younger and more laid-back Hispanic guy whose name escapes me, though I think it was Castillo. This new ENC was a biker, one of three 98 riders that liked two wheel transport. One of the married Enginemen rode a bike back and forth to work from down in National City and one of the seamen used one for commuting. I went with the flow & bought an older blue 180cc RiceBurner, I think it was a Kawasaki. I bought it from the previous owner, a guy I knew up in Los Angeles. I rode the bus up to Long Beach and Uncle George drove me over to pick up the bike. I hopped on and rode it back to LB and then spent the weekend playing with it. I managed to break the mirrors off by trying some hill climbing with it, which was a load of fun when I did it correctly. Sunday I rode it back down I-5 to San Diego. I learned that even though it was fast enough for traffic it lacked a bit as a road bike -- by the time I got back to the base, my hands, legs & butt were numb from the vibration and my nerves were shaking a bit from being thrown around by the big rigs as they blew past me. It was nice for playing & puttering around on the side roads & inner city transport though. One of the other guys rented a bike and three of us, on two bikes, explored Balboa Park and its environs. The rental bike had the passenger, till a cop stopped it & issued a verbal warning: No footpegs for passengers == NO PASSENGERS! Squiller was the third guy, and he ended up riding behind me since my bike had pegs. He had more faith in my bike handling than I did, I figured he was safer on the other bike! My California biking career didn't last very long, though. In a bad fortnight for the 98's bikers, all of us had wrecks. I turned off Pacific Coast Highway at a pretty good clip and rear ended a car that was stopped in the middle of the road, totaled the bike, cracked a few ribs and soaked my crotch with gas, thus scratching the first bike. And my crotch -- it had a burning itch! The Chief was tailgating a truck down the freeway when a kitchen table fell out of it and he hit it. Scratch the second bike -- its motion was tabled. The EN2 was coming in through National City (nicknamed Nasty City, for many good reasons) when a carload of Hispanics pulled up alongside, looked at him, eased over, and deliberately forced him off the road. Scratch bike #3 in that Nasty accident. The last biker had a front tire blow out at 55mph on the freeway. Scratch bike #4, it was flat-lined. Bad luck and good luck. All the riders had minor injuries. All the bikes had major ones. I went car shopping. ---------- I did have one more motorcycle episode. A buddy had a big Honda 750 with a fairing and I borrowed it once. It was a beautiful bike, smooth and quiet and comfy, so much so that it gave very little sensation of speed... He told me to watch the tach and shift at a certain RPM, I think it was 5500. I hopped on, pulled out onto the highway, and headed off down a long hill. I forgot the speedometer and watched the tach, shifted carefully into 2nd at 5500rpm, into 3rd at 5500, into 4th at 5500 -- and saw the sign on the corner I was starting into that read "Curve! 35mph", roughly 1/3 my speed. In a tribute to good brakes, a great bike and an Angel that worked overtime, I made it, somewhat noisily and somewhat widely, around the corner, pulled over and shook for a minute, then U-turned and took the bike back up the hill to its owner, shifting carefully at 2500rpm & watching the speedometer... TBC (Me) (Home)