I’ve not posted in over ten days and I have been avoiding this one for over a month – from the time my friend John rode his BMW into a garbage truck on the way to work. The Pennsylvania State Police cited him for riding too fast for conditions. As John commented “You should be able to stop for something as large as a garbage truck.”

His well ridden (Iron Butt rider) motorcycle won’t see any further service and sets in pieces at his home. And physically the future is cloudy.

His injuries were severe with a month in intensive care and weeks more in acute care. Dozens of medical procedures, operations, and hundreds of thousands of dollars later he’s still in medical limbo on whether he’ll be able to keep his right leg.

Multiple compound fractures, infection, and failed muscle grafts have created a ponderous challenge for John and the medical team. The hospital he’s being treated in has wireless internet access so John has sent numerous dispatches in the way of images, PDF files, and PowerPoint presentations.

I’ve included a few to give you an idea of the physical nature of his injuries. I’ve not included the more graphic ones from early in the process.

For the past few weeks I’ve noticed the accident is present while riding. Situations appear while riding that requires consideration and assessment. That process has come to include a scenario for catastrophe – a direct result of thoughts about John’s accident. I’ve always been aware of the risk that comes with riding but I have begun to wonder about regret.

Like pilots who don’t talk about crashes I question my own mental turning of this subject. For good or ill it is the way my mind works and I don’t easily let stuff like this pass. No matter who or what is at fault in an accident a person is left with their own situation. And I suppose everyone would regret an accident, a bad decision, an unfortunate circumstance. I ask myself thought would I regret ever having gotten on the Vespa if I found myself in John’s situation. If I was spending time looking at an injured leg not in control or sure of what was going to happen. Would I? Would you?

Weighed against those thoughts is the question asked at the end of my life “Would I regret it if I stopped riding or never rode at all?” That answer would be different for everyone and dependant on what place riding occupies in a person’s life. For me, riding is more than transportation and it surpasses recreation. It touches something spiritually fundamental in me the same way photography and writing has. I would be diminished if I stopped riding.

Many riders do stop after an accident. I’ve not considered stopping nor have I become fearful on the road but something has changed. Perhaps I’ve matured. John and I have not talked of regrets but he has said the accident has put him at a major life crossroad. He’s not sure if he’ll be able or willing to ride again.

Surgeons have attached a vacuum pump to the severe wound on his leg in hopes of eventually making it ready for a muscle graft to allow the leg to finally heal and save his leg. It’s a day-by-day assessment.

So I continue to ride to work and make the occasional trip through the countryside with my camera. Riding down the road I’m aware that I am solely responsible for anything that happens to me. I’m not talking about legal responsibility but actual responsibility for living. It’s not a matter of right and wrong. I am the one who has to live in the circumstances I find thinking about this stuff has taken a bit of the luster from the road.

While I was on my way to work under clear skies farther south in another valley my friend John was riding his BMW R100 to work in fog along a main artery for commuters. Shortly after 7AM his motorcycle slammed into a garbage truck that pulled into the road as he passed.

Emergency responders came to his aid quickly and took him to a local airport where he was flown to a trauma center. Upon arrival he was designated Trauma 13. Seeing that there is no room 13 in the Intensive Care Unit is was odd that there would be a patient designated Trauma 13.

John’s wife is an instructor for the Motorcycle Safety Foundation. She told me the visor of his helmet was completely covered with blood on the inside. You couldn’t see in. She arrived on the scene minutes after the accident. They didn’t know the rider’s identity but she recognized the pieces of his BMW. And the helmet. As I talked with her at the hospital she told me that she would be planning a funeral if he hadn’t been wearing a helmet.

The oral and maxillofacial surgeon showed us 3D images of his skull. As he manipulated the images to explain the damages it was unnerving to see how fragile everything looked. John was fortunate that the damage was minor. A black eye, a few hairline fractures, and only one small displacement in the bottom of the ocular socket.

John is a lifelong rider. He’s done the Iron Butt and cross country rider. He’s a daily commuter and wears all the gear. While the gear won’t prevent a collision it will help minimize potential damage. He was in and out of sleep when I visited and at one point he asked me where he was and if there was an accident. After briefly explaining the circumstances I told them they had to cut off his new Revit jacket. He responded with “Aww f**k!!!”. While the doctors already confirmed it I knew there were no brain injuries.

The worst damage occurred to John’s right leg that hit the truck door. Since the truck was pulling out into traffic to move to the next pickup he probably hit at a deflected angle which helped minimize damage but his femur was still in pieces and the patella shattered. Looking at the x-rays I thought about former Washington Redskin’s quarterback Joe Theismann’s leg break during a game with the New York Giants.

An orthopedic team will begin reconstruction Friday morning if the swelling has diminished. Their biggest concern at this point is infection since the bones breached the skin. The armored pants helped keep road dirt and grime on the outside. A pair of jeans would have things dragging through the dirt.

It’s sobering to visit a friend and fellow rider in a hospital. It’s hard not to switch places. It had me reassessing the risk. I haven’t ridden since but only because work has kept me in need of my Ford Ranger. I’ve thought a lot about being Trauma 13. And I know I’ll continue to ride.

John has a long recovery ahead but I suspect he’s already thinking about what to ride next.

Godspeed John.