I lie on my back and look up at the bright blue sky. I turn on my side and see that my bike is lying a few meters next to me, the front wheel turning gently. The warm asphalt beneath me smells convincingly of diesel. I suddenly remember seeing that greasy, colorful, shiny oil trail in the bend.
I just managed to squeeze my front wheel past it. That was just before the rear wheel grabbed the oil and overtook the front wheel. Then I reacted instinctively. I kicked the falling bike out from under me. Something physical or something with speeds and opposite vectors happens. In any case, you flutter down like a fallen rose petal and land as light as a feather on the asphalt. The metaphor only applies to a rose petal weighing a hundred kilos.
But everything still worked. After analyzing the case, it is useful to get on the road to get man and machine out of the path of possible other traffic. Once again I curse the ill-fated idea of buying a VX800 as a 'car'. Such a thing costs nothing, is proven reliable and easy to maintain yourself. But we will never get more than something than the relationship between a Greek donkey driver and his donkey.
Oh yes; the centre of gravity of the old VX is about at the level of the fuel cap. And it feels like it weighs 1340 kilos. Almost impossible to stand upright! My previous 'car' was a Guzzi Cali II. Now that was a bike! It had barely three grand on the clock before it became terminal.
Treating myself to a double hernia – despite the correct lifting technique – I decide ASAP! to score another old Guzzi as a 'car'. Apart from the fact that those stupid tractors have captured my heart, their centre of gravity is approximately at the height of the solid white line in my newly discovered bend. You can lift such a fat Guus upright with two fingers.
By the way, if you have such trains of thought after you have done a ground investigation, you turn on the autopilot yourself and you have to look at your helmet to see if it has absorbed the impact. The dark blue track slide is put on its jiffy and the side case appears to have functioned perfectly as a crumple zone.
In the trees and bushes all kinds of birds are laughing their heads off at that stupid motorcyclist. The other glove comes off. Helmet check: no damage. So the impact was absorbed by the neck and I'll feel it tomorrow. Jack? A bit scraped and smelling of diesel. Thank goodness I didn't go riding in my "The KGB is watching you" T-shirt. My knee has some damage. Everything under control. A Prius with a caravan passes by. The extension cord dangles behind it. Children wave from the back seat. Time for a cigar on the side of the road. While I'm feeling quite satisfied I hear motorbikes.
I turn the corner and see three Supermotards in full testosterone. I walk towards them waving. They stop. We look at the oil trail and spend fifteen minutes busy with sand and branches while the fire brigade has already been called. They have an oil remover with them and everyone is having a great time. We bikers bravely regulate the scarce traffic and feel like Batman and Superman at the same time.
Gendarmes, firemen and motorcyclists. Everyone is fraternized and says goodbye satisfied. We as knights on horseback go for a pint in Oignies. A plate of chips. A steak. Very nice. After lunch I get on my slightly battered horse and feel like a divine ninety-year-old. After all the adventure, the muscles have decided en masse to convincingly sour. But the weather is still perfect and I call home that I will stay away for another night.
In Olloy I find shelter at Hotel Rolinvaux. There you can relax while watching llamas and steam trains. A plate of snacks with it. A pint with it. Let the muscle pain come. A van arrives and the crew also starts ordering. One of the men shouts: “Eyyy, c'est le motard tombé!” It's the civilian van of the firefighters from just now. It's going to be really nice and very late. The next morning I don't have a headache, but all my muscles are locked up. And my asphalt eczema is acting up a bit. I'm satisfied. It was a nice weekend. And as a motorcyclist you always meet the friendliest people.
Schagen, 2016, just back from work in Denhelder, road with approx. 10cm of clay, just after the roundabout I saw it at 50km/h and was shocked, I hit the gas and let 2 feet roll out just above the mud between the oncoming traffic, brrr stopped in the verge without falling and called the police, they were there within 5 minutes, and an hour later the road was clean again, not a pleasant situation but fortunately everything was still intact, that has been different before but that is another story…..
Yes, we always have to be careful around us Theo…
We're waiting for the other story!
The same thing happened to me once but then in a gravel bend in the Teutoburgerwald. There was a German motorcyclist who helped me to put the KTM bike upright again, but burned his hand on the hot exhaust…
Ha, already mentioned before, something similar happened to me with exactly the same machine (VX800).
On a straight road then.
On my daily commute I came across a traffic light that always just turned green.
But this time I was held up a bit at the previous light by a motorist who thought he had to rest on the left.
So at that traffic light I brake properly, I don't drive through red lights and such, and the next thing I remember is that I'm sitting on my bottom on the asphalt and a little further on the Suus is going...
So I want to get up and immediately turn over two or three times.
I still had a hallway…
A mirror of the Suus was damaged and apart from some muscle pain the next day I had no problems.
Here too the suitcases had absorbed the impact
It was winter so I had already wrapped up a bit less summery and that was my salvation in this case.
Second time in my life I fell and both times on an oily substance.
Oil is a lubricant and suitcases are airbags with arthritis….
Yes, I also fell once on a roundabout with a diesel track, from now on I will look at the road surface after looking left for a roundabout, I won't fall for that again...
Anonymous above my story
Not necessary
What a humorous visual story!
I can do that without an engine, that skidding.
With a daughter of 16 at the time and Citroën BX of 23 years and almost new tires we got into a skid after a bend. Rear broke out.
Then down a slope between the trees and upside down into the water. After realizing what had happened, we called 112 underwater. In no time the fire brigade, police and ambulances were on the scene.
Everything ended well in the end. We both had one more trauma and I also had one less BX.
Never again able to discover what was on the road.
In that case I would have chosen your engine version….
Poor, poor BX!
I completely agree with that! And so I still remember that one morning on the way to the boss and that the wind happened to be favorable for a moment, which warned me of the approaching disaster. DIESEL !! Someone had filled up his diesel at the gas station next to the roundabout 'vomit hail' and forgotten to put the fuel cap back on. After sliding around the diesel roundabout for about 270 degrees with my boots as landing gear on the ground and heavily lifting the steering wheel, I hobbled into the gas station to report that things were 'slippery' outside the door. The fuel cap was still neatly on the diesel pump waiting for its owner.
And as a regular rider I have often felt a trip of the rear wheel on dry road and the dusting salt flat that was created after the drying of the salt water at freezing temperatures of around -10C. Then the tire has little grip, to say the least, and the salt did the rest. Diesel on asphalt takes the cake, however, because the road surface then becomes as slippery as a fat eel in a bucket of snot. Brrrrr….🫨😬
Near death experiences are routine for us!
Diesel or oil traces are treacherous, and so is road salt…
Already fallen twice on that granular litter, while it was supposed to combat the slipperiness.
Oh well, those are the physical consequences of moving on two wheels; you are simply under-dimensioned in balance, as they say.
So: if you are not in balance…you will fall flat on your face.
Recognizable story Dolf..
Try to keep the rubber at the bottom as much as possible
It's better on the sidecar!