mcatrophy
Privileged to ride a 2018 FJR1300AS
Just filled up wth fuel. Started her up, zeroed my trip. Flicked it into gear. Glanced round, nobody a threat.
Opened the throttle sufficiently to start to move, lifted my feet onto the pegs, started the left turn to go to the petrol station exit. Done this a million times.
However, just as I get moving, another driver walks from left to right in front of me to go to the pay booth. If I'm to stop for him, I'll have to straighten the bike (or fall over), but this would mean aiming more towards him. So I turn a bit more to my left to go behind him.
As is common, the fuel pumps are set on a raised area surrounded by a curb. Unfortunately I'd left my toe dangling slightly out and below the height of the curb, my tightened turn takes me too close. My toe catches the curb, my foot is forced down and back as my foot pivots on my instep on the peg.
"Ouch" said I, or words to that effect (possibly out loud).
Luckily I could still see through my watering eyes. There was a car about to pull in front of me. Normally I would have waited for the car, but I'd already decided I mustn't stop until I'd fully assessed my situation; it was immediately obvious my foot wouldn't hold up the bike on the left side. So I opened the throttle some more to pass safely in front of the car.
My immediate route is to exit the petrol station onto a two-way road, then straight onto a fairly busy roundabout. "Only stop with right foot down" became my mental mantra, the corollary, of course, is "don't use the rear brake when coming to rest".
First stop is one car back from the first roundabout, I manage that, then round another roundabout without having to stop. Approaching the third, I'm now on a duel carriagway, twenty cars or so in both of "my" lanes waiting to get on the roundabout. There's no way I want to be in stop-start traffic with a useless foot. Luckily for me, there's sufficient room to filter between the lines of cars, I have to stop just once. Oh, if I'd had to use a foot gear-change, I'd have had to stay in 1st gear the whole time. YCC-S rules.
I proceed by filtering between queued cars until I turn off the main road onto the minor roads leading to home, only had to stop a couple more times. Stop in my drive, remotely open my garage door, ride it in.
Next hurdle is to get my side-stand down. I daren't just put it down by feel as I usually do, the only feeling I have is pain. I lean the bike firmly over to my right, right foot planted, look down at the side stand, gingerly lift my foot off the peg, get my boot's instep over the side-stand's peg, gently move the side stand into position. Now I put my left foot back onto the footrest, push the bike over to left, let it fall onto the stand.
So far, so good.
Now, how the heck do I get off the bike? No way can I dismount to the left. I use my arms to push my weight onto my right foot, still on the peg (I'm too short to get my right foot on the ground with the bike leant to the left). So, now I'm stood on the right footrest. I get my left leg over, but can't put it to the ground with my weight on it to lift my right foot off. I put my forearms flat on the tank, lean over putting all my weight on the tank, so I can lift my right foot and put it onto the ground.
I gingerly test putting my left foot down. It will go down flat, but I can't use it.
I take off my gloves, helmet and jacket, all standing on one foot and leaning on the bike, then comes the fun bit of getting my boots off. I want to stand on one foot whilst taking the boot off the other, I can't stand on my left, and trying to pull the boot off my left foot creates a whimpering sound from me.
Eventually, with a combination of a chair, the bike, and a few more "ouch"s (or words to that effect), I get them off.
I hobble into the house.
"What have you done?" are the words that greet me. "Nothing" said I. Well, compared with the replacement hip my beloved had 5 weeks ago, this is nothing.
"Ring the doctor" she says. "It'll be all right" I replied. "Have we got a crepe bandage, perhaps I should bind it?" We find a crepe bandage. I sit down, and take off my sock ready to bind it. "Perhaps I'll ring the doctor" I said, having seen the blue golf-ball attached to the side of my ankle.
Ring the doctor, "Any chance of seeing a doctor this-afternoon?" "Can you get here by 2:10?" from the receptionist. "I'll be there."
Then I think to myself, "How?" I can't ride my bike, I couldn't drive the car, no way could my foot operate a clutch pedal.
Luckily, She comes to my rescue. She'd driven the car for the first time since her operation this-morning, she agrees to drive me.
Doctor listens to my tale of stupidity, then grimaces when she sees my ankle. She gently moves my foot around. Says "You've pulled a ligament. Ice pack, and strong isopropenols" as she prints out a prescription. "If it doesn't improve in the next two weeks, come back."
So, here I am, sat with an ice pack, feet up, worrying about being unable to accompany my son tomorrow going to test ride a Ducati, I'm riding to Wales, Ireland and Scotland in five weeks, I'm supposed to be going on a cruise with Her (the inside passage) in a couple of months, which means miles of walking in airports.
She is not happy with me. This is the worst part.
Dangerous things, motorcycles.
Opened the throttle sufficiently to start to move, lifted my feet onto the pegs, started the left turn to go to the petrol station exit. Done this a million times.
However, just as I get moving, another driver walks from left to right in front of me to go to the pay booth. If I'm to stop for him, I'll have to straighten the bike (or fall over), but this would mean aiming more towards him. So I turn a bit more to my left to go behind him.
As is common, the fuel pumps are set on a raised area surrounded by a curb. Unfortunately I'd left my toe dangling slightly out and below the height of the curb, my tightened turn takes me too close. My toe catches the curb, my foot is forced down and back as my foot pivots on my instep on the peg.
"Ouch" said I, or words to that effect (possibly out loud).
Luckily I could still see through my watering eyes. There was a car about to pull in front of me. Normally I would have waited for the car, but I'd already decided I mustn't stop until I'd fully assessed my situation; it was immediately obvious my foot wouldn't hold up the bike on the left side. So I opened the throttle some more to pass safely in front of the car.
My immediate route is to exit the petrol station onto a two-way road, then straight onto a fairly busy roundabout. "Only stop with right foot down" became my mental mantra, the corollary, of course, is "don't use the rear brake when coming to rest".
First stop is one car back from the first roundabout, I manage that, then round another roundabout without having to stop. Approaching the third, I'm now on a duel carriagway, twenty cars or so in both of "my" lanes waiting to get on the roundabout. There's no way I want to be in stop-start traffic with a useless foot. Luckily for me, there's sufficient room to filter between the lines of cars, I have to stop just once. Oh, if I'd had to use a foot gear-change, I'd have had to stay in 1st gear the whole time. YCC-S rules.
I proceed by filtering between queued cars until I turn off the main road onto the minor roads leading to home, only had to stop a couple more times. Stop in my drive, remotely open my garage door, ride it in.
Next hurdle is to get my side-stand down. I daren't just put it down by feel as I usually do, the only feeling I have is pain. I lean the bike firmly over to my right, right foot planted, look down at the side stand, gingerly lift my foot off the peg, get my boot's instep over the side-stand's peg, gently move the side stand into position. Now I put my left foot back onto the footrest, push the bike over to left, let it fall onto the stand.
So far, so good.
Now, how the heck do I get off the bike? No way can I dismount to the left. I use my arms to push my weight onto my right foot, still on the peg (I'm too short to get my right foot on the ground with the bike leant to the left). So, now I'm stood on the right footrest. I get my left leg over, but can't put it to the ground with my weight on it to lift my right foot off. I put my forearms flat on the tank, lean over putting all my weight on the tank, so I can lift my right foot and put it onto the ground.
I gingerly test putting my left foot down. It will go down flat, but I can't use it.
I take off my gloves, helmet and jacket, all standing on one foot and leaning on the bike, then comes the fun bit of getting my boots off. I want to stand on one foot whilst taking the boot off the other, I can't stand on my left, and trying to pull the boot off my left foot creates a whimpering sound from me.
Eventually, with a combination of a chair, the bike, and a few more "ouch"s (or words to that effect), I get them off.
I hobble into the house.
"What have you done?" are the words that greet me. "Nothing" said I. Well, compared with the replacement hip my beloved had 5 weeks ago, this is nothing.
"Ring the doctor" she says. "It'll be all right" I replied. "Have we got a crepe bandage, perhaps I should bind it?" We find a crepe bandage. I sit down, and take off my sock ready to bind it. "Perhaps I'll ring the doctor" I said, having seen the blue golf-ball attached to the side of my ankle.
Ring the doctor, "Any chance of seeing a doctor this-afternoon?" "Can you get here by 2:10?" from the receptionist. "I'll be there."
Then I think to myself, "How?" I can't ride my bike, I couldn't drive the car, no way could my foot operate a clutch pedal.
Luckily, She comes to my rescue. She'd driven the car for the first time since her operation this-morning, she agrees to drive me.
Doctor listens to my tale of stupidity, then grimaces when she sees my ankle. She gently moves my foot around. Says "You've pulled a ligament. Ice pack, and strong isopropenols" as she prints out a prescription. "If it doesn't improve in the next two weeks, come back."
So, here I am, sat with an ice pack, feet up, worrying about being unable to accompany my son tomorrow going to test ride a Ducati, I'm riding to Wales, Ireland and Scotland in five weeks, I'm supposed to be going on a cruise with Her (the inside passage) in a couple of months, which means miles of walking in airports.
She is not happy with me. This is the worst part.
Dangerous things, motorcycles.
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