My Son Tim Rides this everyday from Wildomar to Anaheim ca 60 miles one way to work,I would rather Drive the most dangerous Dragster than Ride a bike like this everyday Hummm...
My son Tim was hit on the 91 fwy last friday on his motorcycle :
the following Tim has written today.[nov,2011]
Last night as I was not sleeping I was thinking about everything that has happened in the last 5 days and realized I am quickly loosing many of the details and before I do want to do my best to give you my view of this time in my life.
For obvious reasons I will just start this after impact and the feeling and experiences that have now become part of the history of not only my life but my families.
BAM~! The next thing I know I am flying through the air I cant remember seeing anything. Bang I bounce off the freeway and slide to a stop. Even now the images are foggy and hard to put to words but what seemed instantly as I roll over I see people standing all around me. A man in slacks and a dress shirt, a young Hispanic girl kneeling down and my side. Everyone is asking me questions and telling me not o move but I have to get my helmet and gloves off. I some how get everything off. I can feel the rough hard concrete as my fingers dig into its surface as I feel the pain in my leg begin to over whelm any other injuries I have. I tell slacks guy to get my phone out of my motorcycle bag and to call Jeni. I know this news is going to be her worst fear coming true but I am alone and in incredible pain and just need someone. I can hear other people in what seems to be all talking to a 911 operator asking me my name and age and so on. A biker that was riding behind me some distance takes his jacket off and folds it up to put under my head. When I lift my head I take a second to look down at my leg and am disgusted to see my foot pointing in the wrong direction. This seems to make the pain worst so I quickly decide to not do that again.
What seems like seconds later I can hear the sirens coming toward me and a CHP motorcycle officer leans into my view and tells me they are right here and everything is going to be ok. I look at his face and remember him and tell him. “I think I know you, I stopped with you when another motorcyclist crashed in front of me a year or so ago” He looks back and smiles and says “yeah, I do remember you, You have a new bike now.”
The next thing I know there is a firefighter leaned over me, she has an English accent and is so sweet. She tells me she needs to start a line on me and before I can even begin to think I feel the sting of needles plunging into my hands and leg. Quickly I feel the cold air on my body and can see they are cutting all my gear and clothes off my body and as vulnerable as one can be I am now lying on the 91 freeway with nothing but my underwear on. One of the fire men tells me to come by the Corona station after I get better and they will give me one of their station shirts, I can’t wait to get the shirt. Neck brace hard board underneath and last on the list was my foot. After what I hard as 20 something of morphine surging through my body (which didn’t seems to change anything) The sweet voiced English firefighter tells me “we are going to move your foot right now and it will hurt so hold me hand.” I never made it to her hand as a pain I could never describe envelopes every cell in my body and I grab onto her leg and bite down on my biker friends leather jacket (I know I left teeth marks in that jacket and never knew who he was.) Seconds later I am being lifted up into the air and onto a stretcher. They roll me into the ambulance and the whole time all I remember thinking is how incredibly smooth the ride of this thing is.
Into the ambulance and all I see is the wood paneled ceiling and a single light. The doors close and we slowly drive away from the scene. The paramedic starts talking to me asking me my name, what I do for a living. I focus on my breathing and try to get my mind wrapped around what has just happened and what state I am really in.
We stop and the doors open to the ambulance and I am rolled out and into an emergency room. Once again I am surrounded by people doing things to every part of my body. Weather from the morphine of some slight head trauma I begin to feel very nauseous and announce that I may very well throw up and the next thing I know still strapped to my back board and neck brace I am spun onto my side and…. Well you can guess this part….
From here on things become really hard to remember and put in any time line but I know they were shooting me up with some wonderful substance every hour of two and that seemed to make everything tolerable.
Jeni walks in and fear and worry I se on her face will ache my heart for the rest of my life. Holly is there and can’t resist coming over and softly touching my shoulder. I tried to assure them I am going to be ok but I know what they see and the words I am telling them do not match up.
Hours go by and doctors come and go, I am sure Jeni could add some much here as I wandered in a foggy drug induced state.
Next up in surgery. Now I need to give a little personnel info. Tim has never been in a hospital never been in surgery, never been “under” so as much as this had every ingredient to completely put me over the edge the pain and knowledge that all these people are here to help me.
They roll my into surgery and after one last kiss from Jeni I enter a cold white sterile room. I lay on the table shaped like a crucifix. I look up at the lights yet again and as soon as it all started I am in a dark room being moved from one bed to another by a nurse. The only words I mutter are asking her if I already had the surgery. She smiles and ensures me that in fact I have.
Now the hospital stay starts
My Son
Tim Smith also holds the World Record for the fastest Elect,Scale Dragster
play it again Sam...
