"Y-not" horror stories:
About 10 years ago I was riding my Ducati Monster through the semi-rural NH bedroom town that I live in. I was going past a park area and there were a lot of cars parked on both sides of the road, so I had slowed waaay down from nominal Ducati hooligan speeds already. Spidey sense was on high alert and I was being attentive to the parked cars because I thought there was a good possibility someone would fling a door open and scoop me into their back seat.
What I did not prepare adequately for was that a Y chromosome impaired adult would rapidly surge her giant assed Chevy Suburban SUV from its previously parked position on the right side of the road to completely blocking the road, whilst lamely attempting to initiate a three point turn from the parked position to exit in the opposite direction, She then promptly stopped out there when she realized her mistake, blocking both lanes of my possible escape.
I used every bit of my non-ABS Italian Brembo brakes, the rear wheel actually lifted some from the ground, but the road was clean and dry and the tires were of the sport (not-touring) variety so had very good bite. I had a good body position and grip on the bars and pushed down and back away from them for maximum effect. I came to a stop within 24 inches (or less) of putting a 17" diameter Dunlop shaped divot into the shiny black passenger door, where I could clearly see her offspring staring out through the medium tinted window with eyes the size of saucers. Lucky he still had his (faggy little) team headband on, so he didn't drip any sweat onto his Mom's leather seats. But I think that in the end that I probably disappointed him by not giving him the show of reckless human carnage, and his ambulance trip to the ER, that his Mommy had attempted to precipitate.
It was also probably a good thing that I did not own a modular helmet at the time, else I would have flipped that chin bar open, and she (and her precious spawn) would have heard the most shocking stream of profanity they had ever witnessed. But, I had a full face on so the initial stream of consciouslness was muffled.
After I had fully stopped, miraculously found neutral (no easy task when adrenaline amped and/or on a Ducati), and put my kickstand down to give my quivering legs some assistance at holding the bike up, she rolled down her window (never opened the driver's door) and asked me: "Are you OK?"
"Aiiiyyyaaaiiiggggh!!! Why don't you look where you are going? You could have killed me!"
I hope that she got the message. To Bounce's point: I did. While it was not my "fault", I saw that I needed to increase my safety margins if I want to keep riding.
The XX files, Round 2:
A year or two later I was motoring along gently through Keene, NH on my FJR. They had recently installed a new fancy multi-laned rotary (roundabout) in the intersection of NH Rte 101 (the primary E-W highway) and the main N-S route 10, where there had previously been a stop light. I was heading straight through, westbound on Rte 101 headed to Albany, NY. A few hundred yards after I had cleared the rotary, by traveling in the left of the two lanes (which is where through traffic
should be), I spied a car on the right side of the road with its brake lights on. Not a normal place for people to stop.
Engage spidey sense
Just as I came up upon this stopped heap, it suddenly accelerated and lurched to the left, horizontally across the roadway right in front of me. And once again, as soon as the XX behind the wheel realized the error in her ways, she did what all women do, she clamped on the brakes and stopped right there in the worst possible place, effectively blocking any escape routes without riding into the 2 oncoming traffic lanes.
In this case the ABS activated and I stopped well short of the Y-not's Hundai shitbox, this time with probably 5 or 6 feet of
comfortable air space to spare. I could clearly see that the woman driver was elderly, and her passenger was another Y-not but of fewer accumulated miles. The passenger was screaming at the driver (I figured it was her Mom) for her total stupidity, but then gray haired driver proceeded to cross the other two lanes of oncoming traffic from the west, so she could go back towards the rotary.
In retrospect, I'm sure that what happened was she got in the wrong lane of the rotary and found herself going westbound on Rte 101 when she meant to do something else (probably head down south on Rte 10, which is not a particularly affluent part of our rural state.
If there is any moral to these stories I guess it would be to never ever let your guard down. Even when you are just cruising along sedately. But especially when you notice the operator of the weapon car is a woman. Expect them to do the completely, ridiculously; unimaginably unexpected. Then you'll have about a 50/50 chance of making it.
