Billy Lane by Forrest Frazier

I try not to delve too much into other peoples misfortunes but the facts are quite clear. Lane, 39, faced up to nine years in prison after a judge in June OK’d a plea deal in which prosecutors agreed to drop a charge of DUI manslaughter due to a Sept. 4, 2006, crash that left fellow biker Gerald Morelock dead.

Police said Lane’s blood-alcohol level was more than twice the legal limit when he crossed a double-yellow line to speed at 68 mph past three cars on State Road A1A south of Melbourne Beach. He crashed his Dodge pickup head on into 56-year-old Morelock’s small Yamaha motorcycle.

Today Billy’s lawyer plead his case focusing on the positive aspects of Billy’s life and the public service he has done with children, the military, and local organizations. He emphasized the good that Billy can do and has done and his ability to reach out to the younger generation.

Billy spoke to the judge taking responsibility for his actions and got quite emotional regarding the killing of Gerry Morelock. He was surrounded by other bike builders and notable members of the motorcycle business. The support for him from his peers as-well-as the members of Mr. Morelock’s family with whom he has built up a relationship was truly touching. However, in the end the fact remained that one man lost his life because of the lapse of judgment of another man.

I understand that other people have been in similar situations. A few months ago I lost a relative who was riding his motorcycle because someone ran him over. These tragedies hit our community all too often. Please keep this in mind next time you are in your cage and are driving distracted (read: drunk, on the cell, yelling at your kids, texting) and try to be more aware of cagers, or other potential hazards when you are on your bike.

I don’t want to hear about you being in jail or winding up dead, you are all to important to me.

Last Monday it started with my commute home. I work in Boston now and am a slave to commuting on the train. I typically take the 5:25 commuter rail train because it is an express train that goes directly to my town and saves about 5-10 minutes. I am usually home in about a half hour.

It was a normal commute until the train stopped dead about three stops from where it was supposed to. Then we heard that a man had driven his car in to the train tunnel at my typical stop and the car had been hit by an earlier train. Initially, we had heard that the driver was actually ok. He was elderly and had gotten confused as to where to exit the station. The 2 1/2 hours it took me to get home was irritating, of course. I got home just in time to see the smashed car being towed away from the train station, among the many news crews that were there covering the story. Later that night the driver had actually died from injuries he sustained from the crash.

Tuesday was election day, of course. Aside from the obvious presidential results, my liberal state of Massachusetts had three questions on the ballot that resulted in the most asinine results.

Wed., Thurs. and Friday-typical work and life frustrations. Eagerly looking forward to the weekend to wash away the events of the week. Have a few cocktails and a nice night out with my husband. All was going to plan. Until yesterday.

Late afternoon  I received a call from my mother letting me know that my uncle had been in a motorcycle accident. He ended up dying as a result of it. At the time nobody knew the circumstances of the accident or the extent of his injuries. My dad told me that he was wearing a helmet, but it was a shortie so he had a big bump over one of his eyes.

Today we learned that the accident was a hit & run. They determined that someone had run him over due to the extent of injuries to his chest and stomach. There is now an on-going investigation into the accident and who is responsible. And  the kicker? It was my uncle’s birthday.

So now I’m left to ponder: as a motorcycle rider, is it just inevitable that our ticket will be punched at some point? This is not the first time my life has been touched by someone close to me having an accident, or even the first time it’s been a hit & run.

Are we just tempting fate every time we jump on our bikes to go for a leisurely drive? And is it really worth it?

While I’m reminded daily just by looking at his scarred body, there is something about this time of year that especially reminds me how lucky he is (and I am) that he is alive.

one month after the accident

I generally try to keep my personal life away from my blogging life when it doesn’t relate to anything motorcycle specific, but this particular instance is where I think the crossover is important to acknowledge. When I think about how much our lives have changed for the better in the past five years, I am grateful that things didn’t go the other way. My life would not be what it is today.

autumn riding in the White Mountains, NH

It’s easy to take your loved ones for granted until something unfortunate happens. Whenever I think about the accident any time of the year, it makes me give my man an unexpected hug or a smooch to let him know how much I love him.

So for us, October 15th is now the day we celebrate that a day of near tragedy paved the way to a (hopefully) long road of happiness.

Recently, Johnny Knoxville decided that he was going to attempt an Evel Keneval-style stunt by flipping a motorcycle backward in the air. Problem was, he didn’t really know what he was doing, let go of the bike mid-air which promptly landed on him-breaking the handlebar off in his crotch.

So today you guys get a 2-for-1:

Here’s a short and sweet clip of the crash itself (no sound).

Here’s a much longer clip of Johnny on the Jimmy Kimmel show discussing the accident, the actual accident shot from a different angle and imparting the joys of having a catheter.

I know, he’s an idiot.

So here it is:
My best friend (who is now my husband) almost died in a motorcycle accident on October 15, 2003. It was raining heavily that night and instead of riding his motorcycle on the highway, he decided to ride back roads home instead. He didn’t give it a second thought. He had his rain gear and was used to riding in all kinds of weather. He had been in worse storms than this particular one.

The accident itself is hard to determine, but what we think happened is that he got to a rotary area and was forced into the guardrail by a cab. He was thrown from the bike and the cab never stopped (and no one ever came forward). Luckily there was a gas station across the street and the guys there called an ambulance.

I got a call on my cell phone around 4:45 am. When I saw his number calling I thought it was a case of him drunk dialing until I heard a woman’s voice on the line and she told me she was calling from Boston Medical Center and the only words I really focussed on was motorcycle accident.

My apartment at the time had a skylight and the rain was just pounding on it. I remember for a split-second wondering why was he out riding in this weather? and why didn’t he catch a ride with someone else? But that thought was replaced by the urgent need to get to the hospital. I threw on whatever clothes were close by and was at the hospital ten minutes later.

While I waited I called some of our friends and his sister, since his parents were out of the country on vacation. A bunch of people came to the hospital and kept vigil with me.

After 5 hours of waiting with zero information, the vascular surgeon finally came out and told us the extent of his injuries: his spleen had been punctured and removed, seven ribs broken and a collapsed lung, a large gash on his leg, 3 broken metacarpals and oh yeah, his left arm was almost severed: his humorous was shattered and the major nerve, veins and arteries were also severed. They had to transplant a large artery from his right leg into his left arm, which seemed to work because there was blood circulation going to his hand.

in the SICU the day after the accident

His spent the first three days in the SICU (surgical intensive care unit) unconscious and intubated and an additional two days there after he woke up. He had another surgery to fix his shattered bone by inserting a titanium rod and reconnect the nerve. Then he spent an additional week in the rehab ward. The doctors took photos of the entire surgery, but I’ll spare you guys those gory details!

The day after the accident, the left image is the temporary “erector set” to keep the broken bones in place, the right image is a picture of his broken hand with the pins still in place.

The aftermath of having his spleen removed and his right leg where they had to take a vein to put into his arm.

The day the stitches were removed.

A year of pain, physical therapy and lots of determination helped him regain almost full dexterity in his hand, although his ring finger and pinkie finger remain numb due to nerve damage and he’s lost almost all of the muscle mass in his hand. To this day he cannot use his bicep muscle in his left arm (meaning he cannot bend his arm using the muscle) but he’s good at compensating for it in different ways. People don’t even realize there’s something wrong with his arm unless they see the scars or we tell them about the accident.

This experience has not deterred our enjoyment of motorcycles. A month after the accident my husband was daydreaming of riding again. Less than six months later he was back up and riding. And that summer I got my motorcycle license (although I did waffle on the decision beforehand). I’m sure everyone thinks we’re nuts but it’s a big part of our lives that we enjoy.

Maybe it’s a bit corny but the course of our lives changed that night. We each got a huge wake up call and a new outlook on life. It made us realize that life doesn’t wait for you to get your shit together, so get out there and try to accomplish all of the things you dream of. We are thankful to have each other every day. When this time of year rolls around we can’t help but to be grateful that the result of that accident didn’t go another way. And while it’s a day I don’t always want to remember, it’s a day I won’t ever forget.