Racing/Riding and the Consequences

[grasshopper]

Everybody knows the risks of racing and riding motorycles to a certain sense. But when someone you are close to or know very well gets hurt, killed or seriously injured it can change the way you look at the sport.

Is there anyone out there that has lost someone or known anyone close to you that has gotten seriously hurt because of motorcyles in either racing or street riding? I'm not talking about people you don't know, but a family member, or good friend.

Do you still race or ride?

[Steviebee]

I had a friend killed in a car crash (while street racing)  in high school.  Didnt stop me from street racing.  (untill i crashed and totaled the car roling it about 5 times)

not what you asked, but.

[hi-side_racing]

If you do this long enough, you will know someone with a serious injury or death, just like in every other aspect of life. You have to come to terms with it yourself and decide if its something you want to continue with.

I've been doing this going on 10 years now and have several friends and many more acquaintances that have had career ending injuries. It didn't stop me in the long term, but it does make me pause and think about it.

[Al_Soran]

Tough subject....
In the 80's I rode for WERA endurance team called Cycle Exhange Racing based out of Shreveport, La.. The team was owned by a local motorcycle shop owner named John Tauzin and consisted of John, myself, Joe Prussiano and Rick Guy. We had moderate success in the middle weight class, including a National win at Talladega in 88.
John was an excellent rider and quickly acquired expert status with the CRRC (now CMRA) and had a promising future as a racer. Unfortunately, he died at Gateway in St Loius in July of 88 while competing in a sprint race. After conferring with John's wife, myself, Joe and Rick completed the endurance season that year, as it was felt John would have wanted it that way.
A month after John's passing, my best friend was killed in a street riding accident. He was on his way to teach a MSF safety class when a teenage driver made an illegal turn in front of him. Two very experienced riders killed in two very different environments in less than a month, needless to say, I was rattled!
Our endurance team disbanded after the 88 season, Joe Prussiano went on to bigger and better things within the roadracing community, Rick Guy, a photo journalist from Mississippi, continued racing for awhile, and has published a novel or two (not racing related), and me.... well, I got off the bikes completely, accepting an assignment to Korea, and concentrating on raising my young son.
Fast forward to 2004- the bug stirkes again. I've resumed street riding and have also strated to compete again in CCS events here the Southwest. As Terry stated, if you're around long enough you'll eventually be faced with the loss of a good friend in this sport, but I think we all realize that when that time comes, they (we) left doing something we enjoy, and in the company of people we enjoy being around. In the previously mentioned tragadies what sticks in my mind most was a comment made by my best friends wife at his funeral. She said "I wished I had let Scott race"! You see, Scott had always wanted to race with us, and spent many weekends working in the pits to help us out, but his wife wouldn't let him race as she thought it was too dangerous.... Although I feel we all a predetermined time and place for our passing, I couldn't help but feel her sorrow, knowing this would be a regret she'd carry for the rest of her life.
In closing... we have one life to live, live it fully!

Ed

[K3 Chris Onwiler]

This will be tough.
In the early 90s, my wife and I fell on hard times.  She lost a really well-paying job just after we bought the house, and we were in danger of losing the place.  I began working nights as a mechanic at a local bike shop for extra money.
Larry was a mechanic.  He was 18.  The kid was pure bike crazy, and had started sweeping floors there at 13, just so the owner would let him hang out.
I was the better mechanic, but Larry had a gift.  His hands were magic, and I knew he'd be better than me in a few years.  He was just a natural.  The kid was really nice, too.  I almost thought of him as the little brother I never had.  His girl was a stunning blond supermodel candidate, but she didn't realize it.  She was just as sweet as he was.  They were very in love.  She brought him lunch every day, and that girl was all Larry talked about besides bikes.  She didn't know it, but I'd been out with Larry, helping him shop for an engagement ring.
Larry didn't own a motorcycle.  His only rides were when he would test a customer bike.  He'd been pulled over for rediculious speeds, but the cops let him go because he worked for the shop.  The guy was an accident waiting to happen.  I stayed past closing one Friday night to help him finish a rush job on a jet ski.  I had that long, "You've gotta slow down" talk with him that kids never listen to.  As will always happen in such a conversation, Larry agreed with me, and promised to slow down.
The next day, Larry put new tires on a Gixxer 6.  He pulled on his helmet, gave me a wink, and rolled out the door.  Five minutes later, every emergency vehicle in town flew past the shop.  I just knew.  I grabbed the first bike with keys in it, and tore off after the ambulance.  I didn't even stop for a helmet or glasses.
The scene was beyond belief.  On a 30 MPH main street, Larry had broadsided a big, 4-door Buick at 100+ MPH.  The car was bent almost in half.  Larry's helmet was in several pieces, as was his skull.  At this point, he was still alive.
We closed the shop and flew to the hospital.  Twelve hours later, his mom told us that they had decided to turn off the machines.  We were allowed to see Larry one last time.  The doctor warned us that he was occasionally thrashing, but that it was just random nerve firings in a dead brain.
Getting harder....
We went into the room.  Larry would thrash, then lay still.  Soon he would repeat the process.  Looking at his head, anyone could see that the situation was hopeless.  I couldn't object to his mom's decision.  This was the most awful, heartbreaking scene I've ever been a part of.
This is the wort part.
About the fourth time I watched Larry thrash, I caught the pattern.  Clutch, front and rear brake all squeezed tight.  Knees together, squeezing the tank.  Left foot banging down through the gears.  He was caught in an endless loop of his final moments before the crash.  I kept my observations to myself, but it was a purely chilling realization.  At this point, I felt like they couldn't let my poor friend die quick enough.
I walked out of that hospital at 5:30 am.  The only vehicle in the deserted visitor's lot was my motorcycle.  I hated the sight of it.  I rode to church, needing badly to pray.  The door was locked.  Perfect.  Locked out of the house of God at the lowest moment of my life.  Worst of all, I just couldn't cry.  Man, I wanted to, but it just wouldn't come.
The funeral was as bad as any for a boy so young.  Steve, the shop's owner, was destroyed.  He was a single guy, and Larry had been like a son to him. Steve had literally watched the kid grow up in his shop.
Two weeks later, Steve went home, got very drunk, and sucked a bullet out of his pistol.  I didn't think I could possibly have felt any worse, but now my grief was complete.  
At this point, I hated my bike more than anything else on the planet.  Unfortunately, it was the only thing I had to get back and forth to work, and the wife was still unemployed.  I hated every minute I spent on that bike for the rest of the summer.  Then on one particularly crisp and beautiful fall evening, under a rising harvest moon, I noticed that I was enjoying the ride.  I guess every hurt fades eventually.  I cranked the bike up to 100mph, said, "Goodbye guys, I'll miss you both," and let it all go.  I pulled over and sat there, looking lovingly at the bike as it's cooling metal ticked and popped.  Finally, I was able to cry.  When I was done, I took the long way home.  After that night, I was OK again.
Sorry.  I know how much that story sucked.  You asked.

[Bernie]

Wow K3.  Wow.

[secularist]

F%$& K3... :'(...whew...some heavy $hit...

[251am]

   Finally, I was able to cry.  When I was done, I took the long way home.  After that night, I was OK again.
Sorry.  I know how much that story sucked.  You asked.[/quote]


  Didn't suck at all. It's the truth the way few people can put into words. Thanks K3.

  I had to get back on and ride right away. If I didn't do it right away I knew fear would get the better of me, growing. However, I didn't have a decent job, house, and a spouse at the time either. Circumstances change the perspective.

[Baltobuell]

K3, Everybody has a story, but that one is totally gripping and you told it incredibly well.

[EX#996]

My family used to have several stock cars (OK three) that ran the dirt tracks in NE Wisconsin.  The only thing was is that we had too many cars and not enough drivers (my dad didn't think he was good enough to race himself).  So we hired an up and coming driver, a family man with some incredible talent.

Soon, our cars were becoming noticed and we were the ones to beat.  It was great!  D1ck Trickle (tricky D1ck) and Stan..... (we always called him Stan the Man, I can't remember his full name) was our only competition.   Life was good...

Then one Saturday night, my mom comes into my room (I couldn't go to the races, I had a church function the next day) and said that our driver was in a serious accident and was in the hospital.  The trottle stuck going into turn one and he ended up going through the wall into the lumber yard next door.  Fuel started leaking and a fire started.  My dad was the first one there and our driver was screaming at him to pull him out.  (This was back in the 70's before manditory extinguishers.)  My dad did not knowing that his neck was broken....  but then again, if dad didn't pull him out, he would have died right there.

So we have a car that was destroyed, a driver paralized from the neck down, and my dad was absolutely devistated.  You see, our driver already had two kids at home in wheel chairs due to a medical condition, and now he was going to be in one too.  However, his wife said something to us that really put things in perspective....  She told us that she wasn't sorry that this happended, because he was doing something that he absolutely loved.  She would never wish that that experience to be taken away just to have him whole again.  What a strong lady.

Dad never owned another race car again, and it took him a few years to get back into racing.  During that time we have had good friends get hurt or killed in this sport, but then again we have had those who died from illness, accidents on the street, or at the work place.  Dad asked me what would I do if Paul got hurt....  I simply told him, we would just deal with it like everything else in life.

Life is to short to live it in fear.  Embrace it and cherish it.

Dawn

[rotoboge]

It didn't stop me in the long term, but it does make me pause and think about it.

Good wisdom, wise advise... :)

[MELK-MAN]

friend of mine that has been involved in track schools and roadracing for at least 20 years told me "if you are in this long enough, you will loose some friends".. His son was seriously injured racing in Euroupe.
A good guy, Bryan Cassell was killed 2 years ago and it really shook alot of us up that day at the ROC in Daytona.
Most recently another very good guy, Steve Servis was injured in a freak accident. I go on, but it does make you stop and think a bit. Another friend of mine got 1/2 way to the last race at Jennings and turned around saying "his head just wasn't in it" ..
To race or not to race... YOU make the decision..