
Asphalt is a very unforgiving surface. This is especially true when the human body and the road make contact at speed! Just ask any motorcyclist who has had the sensation of sliding along on his side, his back, or on his posterior in that “life goes into slow motion” eternity as one waits for friction to take its course and bring the sliding body to rest.
Over the years motorcyclists have employed strategies to reduce the effects of high speed “asphalt abrasion”. The first and still most-used strategy is 1.5 mm of cowhide. Nowadays new synthetic products abound; cordura, nylon mesh, Kevlar and even body armor employed at elbows, shoulders and to protect the spine. How many of us two wheeled aficionados’ actually protect ourselves well every time we ride?
In spite of all the protective clothing available and the well understood value of these items, we still see motorcyclists in cut off t-shirts, shorts and sometimes even flip flops tooling around on their bikes. In states without helmet laws riders log thousands of miles with their hair in the wind riding “free”. Sometimes when in Ohio, my home state and home to the AMA, I pass these guys on the road and I get flashbacks of spilled brains and permanently disabled bodies.
As I get sanctimonious about riders that tempt fate and ride without any protective gear, my own stupid stunts put me into the population of dumb-ass bikers from time to time.
Up until a few weeks ago with over 40 years of motorized two-wheeling under my helmet, I had only tested the asphalt twice, once on a Honda S65 in my first two weeks of ownership and again on my Triumph 500 in downtown Ann Arbor, Mi. Both of these were relatively minor slides causing no injury to me other than to my ego and only minor damage to the bikes and my clothing.
Have you ever noticed that as long as the motorcycle doesn’t meet anything solid during a slide it not only slides faster than you do, but it can come out of the slide with less damage? If the motorcycle or your body meet a fixed object after the dismount things get much more serious
My 1973 H-D XLH had been in the shop for one of its annual, highly expensive, transfusions of cash, in both labor and parts. That stupid AMF era Harley loves to remind me of its hold on me! By the time you drop the “The Beast” off at a shop and they diagnose the problem, order the parts and put it back together it always takes a month! I need my regular fix of wind in the face over extended forks to keep my head on straight. I’m like a heroin addict going into withdrawal when the bike is in the shop. I will pay anything to get it out of hock. I’m lucky I have enough of my own money to bury this expense or my wife would have hired a lawyer a long time ago!
I often wonder, do I own “The Beast” or does it own me?
I picked “The Beast” up on a Saturday afternoon, road it home, garaged it and went to do something else. It was running better than it ever has. These guys did a great job of fixing it!
On Sunday night I finished some chores and as the sun was about to go down I thought I would take the “The Beast” out for spin and start enjoying my most recent cash drain.
As usual, I donned my helmet, mesh jacket with included body armor, elk-skin gloves and above the ankle boots reinforced with steel toes. I wore a pair of Levis. It turns out this was the weakest part of my protective garb.
As I got out on the road the bike was purring as smoothly as a 1973 era V-twin can purr. With a little Ka-chunka,Ka-chunka from the primary and enough potato-potato from the exhaust I began working on my “running down the road” grin.
I was a little concerned because it was dusk, the most dangerous time for riding, but I had picked a road that usually has little traffic on it for my ride. For some reason traffic was not light that night and a constant stream of dual headlights came at me from oncoming traffic as I put my feet up on my highway pegs and began to relax for a nice cruise. I was doing 45 miles per hour, my relaxing two-lane cruising speed.
All of a sudden up ahead of me were an extra set of headlights coming straight at me, one set in my lane! This was just under a quarter mile ahead of me. Knowing intuitively that two vehicles travelling at 45mph or better can close very quickly when you take into account both their speeds I knew I had to do something quickly.
I could have pulled to the right shoulder but being startled by my situation and not wanting to hit the ditch, I applied both brakes, but in doing so I over-reacted and the back end came around, the bike slid out from under me and I found myself sliding down the asphalt a couple bike lengths behind the “The Beast”. Life had gone into slow motion and the outcome was no longer in my hands. Only Lady Luck or the devil himself would decide from here on out!
Upon reflection, quite a few of the devil’s scenarios now occur to me; the bike could have slid across the road into the oncoming lane, I could have slid into the oncoming lane, a vehicle behind could have run me over, the idiot in my lane coming at me could have run over my bike. None of these occurred, thankfully.
I slid to a stop, on my side, hopped up and moved to my bike which was still in the same lane on its side. The fact that I was able to get up and walk to my bike I attribute to Lady Luck. Whoever was behind me was far enough back that he could stop in plenty of time which saved me from becoming “road kill”. In fact, this driver was the first to reach me and ask me if I was OK. I was trying to pick my 400 lb Harley myself and I asked him to help me right it. We got the bike up and walked it over to the right shoulder when “Mr. Wrong side of the Road” arrived to also ask me if I was all right. I briefly took stock; all my joints were working, nothing hurt. I looked down at my knees and noticed both legs of my Levi’s were torn. No big deal, Levis are cheaper than hospital bills. My left arm felt like it had taken a knock, but it didn’t cause me any pain.
My indignant sense of reasoning rose to the surface and I asked “Mr. Wrong side of the Road” what the Hell he was doing in my lane coming the opposite way. I received a guilty look but he made had no response. Innocent until proven guilty was the route he was going to take!
By now a small crowd had gathered. The driver from behind me asked
if I needed him to call the police or an ambulance. I said “No” deciding that even though the guy who pulled into the wrong lane had no right to do what he did, my mishandling of a panic stop was as much my problem as his. There didn’t seem to be enough damage to bike or life and limb to make a big deal out of this. I was pissed that this guy had tried to pass or whatever he was trying in front of me!
I looked at “Mr Wrong side of the Road” again and told him I still didn’t understand what the Hell he was doing in the wrong lane. He silently pleaded “the Fifth” again. If I wasn’t going to call the cops, he could be off the hook!
I inspected my bike. The handlebars were tweaked and my clutch lever was partially broken. The bike was very possibly rideable. I pulled in the clutch and pushed the starter button and after a little grinding the engine re-started.
I thanked the guy from behind me for his concern, glared at “Mr. Wrong side of the Road” who now became “Mr. Lucky”, threw my leg over my bike and started a shaky ride home. Since I was only about three miles from home this would not be a long ride if the clutch lever lasted.
The clutch lever lasted less than a mile and snapped. Now it was held together only by the cable end. I had no first gear start. I was chugging along in second or third and praying that the light at the four lane highway ahead would be green and I could make it home without having to stop and restart. I almost made it.
The light turned yellow about 40 yards before the intersection. It was too risky to try and run the light and cross the busy four lane so I would have to stop. Without the ability to pull in the clutch I had to stall the engine. While waiting for the light I reached down and moved the shift lever to neutral and restarted the engine. When the light turned green, I crab-walked the bike until it gained enough momentum to put the bike into second hoping it would not stall out. Lady Luck and low end torque was with me! I managed to get the transmission into second, give it some throttle and I didn’t stall out as I chugged across the intersection, the last stop before my driveway.
I stalled the bike out in my driveway and walked it into the garage. I made another inspection of body and bike. A tweaked set of handlebars, broken clutch lever and two holes in the Levi’s, one in each knee, seemed to sum up the damage.
I inspected my helmet and jacket and found no visible scratches or tears. The back of my right glove had a few abrasion spots on it.
I went in the house to the bathroom, loosened my belt and dropped my trousers. Both my knees were bloody. I washed them off and applied some antiseptic cream. Both me knees and legs worked without any pain. “Road-rash-scab-time” lurked in my very near future. I wasn’t going to be scrubbing any floors on my knees for some time.
My helmet, gloves and jacket had protected me well. The Levis flunked the test. My knees took up the slack.
Did I learn anything?
Levi’s aren’t going to protect anyone when they slide on asphalt. A rider has to wear something with better abrasion resistance than denim. My knees are proof of this. I was fortunate not to have done more than scraping them.
Good gloves and a protective jacket can save a lot of skin! They did for me.
The Beast is pre-1974 when NHTSA standardized brakes and shift levers on one side of a motorcycle. My regular ride is a much newer bike. I need to practice panic stops on the Beast to prevent myself from incorrect braking and laying the bike down in a panic stop. Having the brake and shift lever on the opposite side is a hazard unless you can use them in an emergency correctly.
If you’re just out for a ride for pleasure, go during daylight hours with light traffic on a road that you know well. Riding after dark and especially on busy, unfamiliar roads adds to the risk of something bad happening.
On a two-lane road a car can pull out to pass without enough clearance in the oncoming lane anytime day or night. Staying alert and prepared for defensive action is your only protection.
The “Big Asphalt Slide” may take a lot of Lady Luck to cheat the devil. It doesn’t hurt to have a little insurance. Remember, leather is your friend!










