As we rounded a tight corner up in the twisties, I saw the bright yellow touring bike parked off to the side of the road on the left. “A strange place to park a bike,” I thought to myself when it first came into view. Within a split second after spotting the parked bike, a second image came through my optic nerves that I probably will never completely forget. On the right, 30 feet down a steep embankment, was a rider holding his friend, Ron.
It didn’t take much brainpower to decipher that a motorcycle accident had just happened and that these strangers were in need of some assistance.
Our group of three quickly found a relatively safe place to park our bikes off the road and trotted a few yards back to the scene to see if there was anything we could do. One of us grabbed a first aid kit from his saddlebag, and I grabbed my cell phone from the tank bag. When we arrived, Ron was moaning, with a little blood showing at the corner of his mouth and his riding buddy was begging him to “Hold on buddy! Stay with us, Ron!”
One of us scrambled down the embankment with his first aid kit to help the other rider attend to Ron. Ron’s friend said that no one had called 911 yet, so I employed my trusty Cingular unit to do just that. The third rider in Ron’s group had gone to hunt up a phone to make the call, but had not yet found one by the time my call was received by the 911 operator. Within 15 minutes, a fire department rescue truck and an ambulance were on the scene with trained paramedics. Ron was quickly loaded into the ambulance, and I overheard the paramedics tell one of his friends that he would be transported to the closest flat spot for a helicopter to land and then flown to a trauma unit. They had evidently decided that Ron’s injuries were pretty serious.
I’m certainly no expert, but it looked to me like Ron would have some healing to do but will ride again one day. My two buddies and I didn’t know this other group and didn’t get their names, but I can still see vividly the picture of Ron’s buddy holding him on that embankment and looking up at us with a pleading stare, hoping that we were bearing the right kind of gifts to help his friend.
After going over and over that scene in my mind for a few days, things kept popping up, so I offer them to you in the category of “For What It’s Worth.” I believe that if Ron were here he’d agree with everything I’m about to say.
What if Ron had been riding alone that day? The big, bright yellow touring bike would not have been parked on the left side of the road drawing our attention. Ron would have been 30 feet down that hill moaning quietly and privately to his “belly-up” bike. How long would it have taken for someone to see him? But Ron was riding with two other motorcyclists. One of them was able to go for help while the other was able to give at least a little first aid assistance and lots of comfort.
What if one of our group hadn’t had a first aid kit? No one else had a way to cut Ron’s trousers away from his leg so we could determine the extent of the bleeding. There wouldn’t have been bandages to apply to that (thankfully) minor source of blood loss.
What if no one was carrying a cell phone? Would the dispatched rider have found the closest regular phone, or would he have ridden off in the wrong direction where phones are much less plentiful?
Far be it from me to suggest to anyone else how to ride or what to carry on their motorcycle. I’m just really glad, however, about a few things that happened on the day my group came across Ron lying on that hillside.
I’m very glad Ron was riding with a group. His friends were able to lend assistance in several ways and, at the very least, he didn’t have to lie there suffering in the ditch while unknowing motorists passed him by. Probably Ron is alive today because people were available to get help quickly. Most of the areas we ride have paramedics available on a timely basis, and their technology and training ensures that quality medical assistance will be given right away. Someone has to call them, though, and Ron—barely conscious—was in no condition to do that on his own.
I’m glad there was a first aid kit stored away on one of our bikes. Ron’s injuries weren’t of such a nature that this kit actually made the difference in his life or death, but they certainly could have been.
I’m glad my cell phone was available, fully charged, and one of the type that gets a signal almost everywhere. I think I’ve heard from doctors and paramedics that every minute counts in severe trauma cases. Minutes can mean the difference between life or death; minutes can also mean the difference between permanent and temporary disabilities. If I could be sure that my cell phone made such a difference for Ron on that day I’d be one very happy hombre. I’ll just assume that it made at least some minor difference to Ron, and hold onto that warm feeling anyway.
I’ve heard folks say they like to ride alone more than in groups. I know lots of our Members feel that way, and I understand that feeling even though I don’t share the same view. To those, my fellow Members, I urge you to consider the alternative in light of what happened to Ron. If you insist on solo riding, I implore you to back off a bit when you do, so that winding up in a ditch becomes less of a possibility.
Not all cell phone services are equal when it comes to being able to pick up an available signal. Many are limited to only certain types of systems, and this limits their roaming capability. Give this some thought. We were pretty much out in the wilderness on this day but my phone got a clear, strong, signal even though it was not on its home system.
I’m going to do some research and get a first aid kit to carry on my bike. I probably won’t be able to use it on myself, but I’d like to have it for someone else to use on me or to help another rider in need—another one of those warm feelings that are pretty valuable.
Buster Moldenhauer owns a 1998 GL1500SE, and is a full Member of GWRRA; he also owns the 1996 R1100RT pictured here and is a member of several BMW clubs. “The BMW world is my primary residence at the moment,” he quips, “and I do not yet associate with any GWRRA Chapters nor ride with their groups. This is not because I have anything against them (quite the contrary), but I've settled into the BMW world and have plenty to do there at the present time. There's lots to be admired about the GWRRA world and I hope it will be as good when/if I get ready to move over.”
Buster has put about 130,000 miles on his BMW in the last four years and about 50,000 on his Gold Wing since he got it in April of 2000. He says he enjoys being able to have both bikes and uses them according to the nature of the ride.
