So, my father was a biker and a curious mind and a guy with more juice at 70 than most people have at 25....which is why he was riding his motorcycle in Kentucky one fine summer day.
Two-lane country road; he was travelling with a bunch of friends, doing maybe 50 MPH. Coming the other direction was an older guy and his wife riding their
bike. The older guy was waving and smiling at all the guys in my dad's caravan, and never actually looked up to see that there was a truck stopped in the road in front of him.
The guy slammed into the truck and his motorcycle flipped in front of my dad's. Those who saw it say my dad never had a moment to react -- he never even touched his brakes. The bikes slammed together, and my dad went flying. At 50 MPH.
Good thing he was wearing his helmet, or he'da undoubtedly been killed. As it was, he broke his left wrist in three places, and broke his collarbone...and most damaging, he basically shattered his pelvis. When I saw him in the hospital E.R. (before they had done anything except dose him with morphine for the pain), he was pretty broken up.....besides the inhuman angle of his legs and left arm, he was covered with cuts and scrapes and blood.
First words out of his mouth when he saw me? "Hey, Ted! Good to see you. How're you doing?"
How am I
Anyway....he underwent many operations; spent some time in a wheelchair, and then almost a year with a walker, then a tripod cane. Didn't slow him down nearly as much as you might think, though....and I never, not once, heard him complain about the pain or the inconvenience of it all. 'bout the only thing he would occasionally mutter is that he wished his left foot worked better, so he could use the shifter on the new motorcycle he intended to get.
Hard guy to keep down; and a couple of broken bones sure wasn't going to do it.
When he developed bone cancer in his pelvis, though, that was a different story.......