Got a brand new Ninja 300 in the middle of December last year. Overpaid for it too. But I'd already ridden 150s for a year or so, purchased and wore full safety gear, and taken my MSF safety course. I thought I had it all figured out and would be fine getting a new bike. I've never been a high speed guy, whether on two wheels or four, so I knew I wouldn't mind riding a 300 for years to come.
I never go out with friends, specifically because I've gotten in trouble most of the times that I have, but I made an exception for someone, because they didn't really have anybody but me and another couple of friends
So we go out, have a couple drinks, everything was fine. We waited a couple hours, and all decided to leave. Half of us decided to go home, the other half went to another bar. I decided on the latter.
This was my first hint that everything was not well. I didn't know the area, and it was very foggy, but not dangerously so. But my GPS was sending me all over the place. I don't know if it was the weather, bad connection, or what but it took me an hour to find a place two miles away, and by then I was beyond upset. I know not to drink when I'm upset, but I did anyway.
Even after a few drinks, it had been four hours since my last drink, so I thought I'd be fine. We all started to leave. This was the second, and primary sign that I shouldn't have been driving. I pulled out of the parking lot and got onto one of the side streets leading back to the main road. Pulling up to the stop sign, I hit a small imperfection in the road as I stopped and just fell right over as soon as i came to a stop. Just lost my balance, out of nowhere.
I got the bike back up, and a car stopped behind me. My friend had seen the whole thing, and had got out to help. I was upset before, now I was so mad (and embarrassed, lol) that I couldn't even think straight. I guess these bikes have safety kill switches that don't let you restart the bike immediately after its been dropped or what, but I didn't know that at the time and couldn't get it started no matter what.
My friend was going to drop off another friend at his house, and said that if I came along for that, he'd bring me back to the bike later. So we chilled out there for a couple hours watching TV, no more drinks, had a short nap, and got ready to go back. He kept trying to get me to just let him drive me home, but I refused. I felt like I was good to ride home, and didn't want the trouble and embarrassment of having to get a ride back to the bike in the morning.
It started right up, and after bending my shifter back into place, I left. I pulled into the middle of the road to make a U-turn, and this is where I received my final warning. I
just knew that if I kept going, I was going to die. But, still being extremely agitated, I said "f*** it," and took off.
I must've made a wrong turn somewhere, as I soon found myself in unfamiliar territory. The fog had probably doubled what it was earlier. It was so bad that I had to ride with the visor up on my helmet. Luckily, the roads were empty, as it was around 3am, so I pulled over and set my GPS back to home. Again, it sent me in different directions over and over again. Eventually the fog got to be so bad that even my glasses were starting to fog up and I couldn't see very well at all.
I never even saw it coming. There was a slight bend to the right in the road ahead with a concrete median in the middle. I hit the median at about 40mph, but I was still upright. The last thing I remember was thinking "alright, I made it over the median, maybe I'll make it over the curb." No such luck. You'd think I would think to try to stop. Or try to make the curve so the worst that could happen was a lowside. Instead, I hit it at about a fifty degree angle.
When I woke up I couldn't breathe at all. I thought maybe my balaclava had gotten moved over my nose and mouth so I quickly threw off my gloves, balaclava and helmet. It didn't help. My entire upper body was in extreme pain, so I just rolled around until I could find a position that allowed me to breathe somewhat. My phone was dead, so I just laid there for a few minutes, thinking someone would call an ambulance.
After a few minutes, nobody showed up, so I got myself to my feet. The bike was facing the street, with the lights still on. I turned it off, but didn't even try to pick it back up. I left the key in, thinking it would make it easier for whoever had to pick it up.
I dragged myself across a couple of streets to the nearest gas station and borrowed a phone and called 911. As soon as I got the phone, the pain came back and I slowly collapsed right there on the floor. They got there almost instantly, making me think that somebody had already called them. Turns out, I crashed right into the local PD's front yard, two cities over from where I thought I was.
They helped me up, looked me over, and said I needed to go to the hospital. At first I refused, and started wondering why the hell I called them in the first place. I don't like hospitals or doctors at all and will do everything in my power to avoid having to deal with them. But then I touched the part of my shoulder that most of the pain was coming from, and felt a bone sticking out close to my neck.
I said, "Ah f*** that's not normal is it?"
They looked at me like I had a bone sticking out of my neck or something, then said no. So I agreed to go to the hospital. They asked me if I'd been drinking, and I admitted to it, but said it had been about five hours since my last drink. They said my BAC was .17, aka twice the legal limit. I still think I would've been fine if not for the damn fog and GPS mishaps. I think I pissed the paramedics off by asking about the bike every few minutes. I did get a bunch of compliments from them about my gear though, lol
After going through the trauma unit and MRIs and all that s***, I finally got to a room after a few hours, where they told me I had a broken collar bone, a broken shoulder blade, and my spleen was bleeding. I was not allowed to eat anything because they assumed I was going to need surgery. The pain was so bad that I couldn't sleep, because I've always slept on my side. When I could get into a position that was comfortable enough to sleep, I dreamt about crashing again and woke up with a jolt, further aggravating my condition. They were giving me oxy for the pain, which didn't help much, but it was tolerable. Until I tried to move at all, that is.
They wouldn't let me stand up to use the bathroom (not that the pain would let me, but I still wanted to try). There are few things more embarrassing than feeling like your bladder is going to explode, but being unable to use the little urinal bottles they give you because the nurse had to be there to watch.
I got the generic "motorcycles are bad" and "last week a motorcyclist came in with _____" talk from one nurse and two different doctors.
I finally went in for surgery the next day.
When I got back to my room, the pain had gotten much worse than before, but they had just given me dilaudid, so I wasn't getting anything else. It didn't help, and the oxy I got every four hours didn't help at all. Opioids have never worked well for me. I couldn't sleep at all. Eventually, I started hiding them under my tongue and chewing them up after the doctor walked out, just so I could get a couple hours of sleep. It helped a little bit, but not really. This probably makes me come off as a huge wuss to anyone that's had worse injuries, but it did suck lol
Finally, I remembered that I had some kratom stashed in my bag in case of accidents (which EMS bitched at me for, clearly they had fallen for the BS propaganda campaign FDA and pharma companies had waged against it). So when they left, I got working on getting to it. It took me roughly thirty minutes to sit up. Thankfully they had shut off the bed alarm so I could get up when I wanted. This experience gave me a whole new respect for kratom, it took the pain from a 9 to a 5. I didn't even need the oxy anymore. Finally I could rest, get some sleep, watch some tv, and relax.
After another few days, they said my spleen was healing, and they released me, saying it would be a few months before I could return to work.
Three weeks later, I'm back at work after the x rays came back saying it was healing well, and I had my full range of motion back. Can't lift more than twenty pounds though.
I went back to the scene of the accident a few days later and tried to figure out what happened from the marks on the sidewalk and in the dirt, but i couldn't figure it out. I got my gear back from someone who had grabbed it for safekeeping, and figured out that my head hit the concrete somewhere, there were scratches on the helmet that grass couldn't have done, but everything else was still good.
Even at .17 BAC, I hadn't drank a lot at all by my standards (four beers, three shots, and one of those hard iced teas over a seven hour period), but what I had forgotten is that I had completely stopped drinking a few months back after 5 years of alcoholism, so my tolerance was back to zero.
I still can't figure out how I managed to break my collar bone and shoulder blade on my left side but didn't hurt my arm. Maybe the alcohol stopped me from trying to catch myself so I didn't do any more damage. The doctors say nothing is wrong with my lung or rib, but I still can't breathe in all the way. Whether you believe in God or not, I believe I am alive because the friends that talked me into going despite my warnings would not have been able to live with the guilt if I'd died, even though it wasn't their fault. That's just the way they are, and their comments after I saw them again just confirmed that to me.
I didn't take any pictures of the bike, because it didn't look bad at all. The side that hit the ground was torn up, the rim had some scratches, and the shifter was bent again. It started right up though. It was only after I started removing fairings that I realized the extent of the damage. Every single fairing except for right side and right rear had broken tabs, even though left side was all that got hit, leading me to believe that there was frame damage. But, I took all the fairings off except for the front, and it seems to be fine. If anything, it rides better now. Feels much more balanced. But that could just be because I lost fifteen pounds since my last ride and the weight of the fairings is gone. It looks dorky in three-quarter naked mode but it's still rideable, that's what matters. Still going to have it checked out though. I can get a new set of fairings with my tax return. I'm actually coming around to the look though, just gotta find a way to conceal the jug on the right side
I might post some pictures later on. Feel free to make fun of me for any or all of the numerous dumb things I did, I deserve it
TL;DR:
-Don't ride angry
-Don't drink and ride, even if you think you know your limits
-Don't ignore the fog, especially if you don't know the area
-Even a grand worth of safety gear doesn't make you invincible
* 3/20 - edited out some information that could identify me