Road Rash

Motorcycle Crash!

6/21/17

So, after spending the best part of the last week on Lake Mead with seven of our grandkids (and some of their parents) and having a terrific time, it was time to return to our Anaheim home.

The traffic home seemed quite bearable for a change; that is until when we were heading down the Baker Grade, just after Halloran Summit Road, a cop in his crusier suddenly showed up in front of us doing his "zig zag slow down the traffic" maneuver. He brought us all to a complete stop, three abreast (we were on the front row and in the middle with an eighteen wheeler to our immediate right and a pick-up truck to our left).

After he got us stopped, we could see that about a quarter-mile ahead a couple of heavy duty tow rigs were struggling with the task of uprighting a truck along with it's dual tanker trailers that were on there side in the pit on the side of the road.

The cop's efforts to stop us in one spot became somewhat comical (but I'm sure he wasn't laughing at all). With his lights blinking, he would bring us to a complete stop and then start slowly moving down the road; and of course we all followed. He would then slow down to a stop again, and so would we. But when he started moving again, we were all right there.

Finally, he turned his car around, facing us and used his loud speaker system to basically tell us to "Stay Put!"... We got the message.

After about twenty minutes or so of just setting there, the cop headed down the road until he stopped at the sight of the tow truck team (I guess he was going to give them some pointers). The pick-up truck to our left didn't move even an inch, I planned to leave our gear-selector in "Park" until directed otherwise. And as far as I could tell the semi-rig driver to the right of us may have been fixing a late lunch in his luxurious appearing cab but he didn't move either. I'm sure none of us planned to move without explicit instructions in the affirmative from the constable who had made it clear he was in charge.

After about a total of thirty or thirty-five minutes waiting (or about ten-minutes after the cop froze us in our tracks), the "Millennials" in the line of cars behind us made their move! First one pick-up truck, then a shiny BMW and then a stream of cars started coming around the three of us using the inside shoulder of the road. After about 12 or 15 Millennials came around us, I pulled my gear-selector out of Park and put it back to "D" and followed them, to keep from falling too far back from the "Pole Position" for the Official Restart.

I knew the cop wouldn't be happy! And here he came, straight at us, lights flashing! The Millennials stopped in their tracks (I could see in my mirror that the eighteen wheeler to our right never moved, he was way back there).

It wasn't much longer before the cop turned us loose! It was a bit like the drop of the "Green Flag" at the Indy 500; we were off and running. Whoever got to the front would have clear roads for a far as the eye could see. Well, I saw 90 on my dashboard! I assured Sandee that the cops would be too busy with the truck issue to be waiting for us. Soon I was back to my normal aggressive but calculated to be "ticket-free" speed.

Little did I know that our drive home would soon become much more memorable with an unexpected level of excitement and concern.

We finally made it to the 91 fwy where it makes it's way through Corona; almost home. Traffic was moving fast (75 mph to 80 mph); we were in the fast lane next to the double HOV lane with just a picket-line of plastic 2ft tall posts separating two streams of fast-moving traffic. We were minding our own business when suddenly the traffic in our lane, and our lane only, came to a screeching halt!

I was on it! We were stopping hard with plenty of room between us and the cars in front of us; so it was time to check the rear-view mirror. We seemed to be doing okay there too, so my eyes went back to the cars in front. Suddenly, I heard a very loud and unsettling crunch of metal impacting metal. I had trouble determining the source of the horrific sound, I was very near the completion of our emergency stop.

Suddenly I saw something to the immediate right of our car. It was a large riderless motorcycle bouncing and sliding along, mostly on it's side. And then, there he was, the young man who I presumed had previously been riding the motorcycle. He was now tumbling along trailing the motorcycle by a car length or two. I learned that he had crashed his motorcycle into the car immediately behind me.

The young man came to a rest on the concrete in the lane immediately to our right and just a few feet in front of our now fully stopped Tahoe. He was able to get to his feet but was obviously favoring his left foot and or leg. He was staggering and I'm sure quite confused (who wouldn't be).

By now the eight or ten cars that had stopped in front of me had worked their way around the fully stopped truck that had caused the emergency stop in the first place, and I now had what was basically a clear lane between our car and the truck almost a hundred yards or so ahead of us.

Instead of moving on down the road, it seemed like the best thing to do was to put our car in park again and stay put blocking the fast-lane indefinitely. Sandee quickly asked, "should I call 911"? I confirmed her suggestion as I opened the driver-side door and said something like, "I've got to get that guy on the ground".

He was a Big Dude! I'm not sure, maybe 6' 4" and 260lbs without much body fat at all! He was dressed in his leathers with a good helmet, googles and a neoprene face-mask. I grabbed his hand and put my arm around him and maneuvered him into the relatively safe area immediately in front of our parked car and got him to lie down in the middle of the fast-lane.

As we spoke, he seemed to become more cognitive; I learned his name (let's call him Darrel). I asked Darrel about his head, his neck, his back and etc. As we progressed in our conversation, it became clear to me that his main issue seemed to be his left ankle. As we discussed it, he said, "I shouldn't have jumped off my bike".

Suddenly, he decided that he wanted to stand up. I protested but there wasn't much I could do to dissuade him (and even in my middle linebacker days I don't think I could have kept him down against his will). (Somewhere along the line, Darrel told me that he was a Cop. I told him that I loved Cops!) Finally he agreed to lay back down on the ground and wait for professional help.

Soon there were cops and paramedics everywhere; I told them what I knew and faded into the back ground, eventually climbing back into the drivers seat of the Tahoe. They loaded Darrel into an ambulance and before he left, they cleared a path around the side for us to move on down the road.

Darrel, you are in our prayers!