When Disaster Strikes, Keep Thinking

[Admin]

Kevin Cameron has been writing about motorcycles for nearly 50 years, first for <em>Cycle magazine</em> and, since 1992, for <em>Cycle World</em>. (Robert Martin/)

Mike Baldwin once said, “I see a lot of riders crash and then act like they’re unconscious. When you crash, you’ve still got a lot of riding to do! Like fending off the bike so it can’t be the hammer that drives you into the bales.”

Another TZ750 rider from the 1970s, Miles Baldwin (no relation) described a fall this way: “There I am sliding and I notice parts of me are getting really hot. So I rolled over as I slid. That way, when I finally stopped, I was done to a turn.” Always a lover of words, he grinned in appreciation of the pun.

Gary Fisher, talented son of 1950s AMA racer Ed Fisher, found himself sliding up the Pocono straight in a crowd of fast-moving bikes. He said, “I rolled up in a ball for two reasons. First was to make myself a smaller target. Second was so I wouldn’t slow down so quickly, so if I did get hit, it wouldn’t be so hard.

There’s plenty of riding left to be done as crashes happen.

MotoGP rider Marc Márquez used to crash often enough in practice to make me wonder if he’d made crashing into a learning tool. Then a slo-mo video of one of his crashes offered a possible new perspective. There is the bike, sliding on its side, Márquez still aboard with his hands on the bars. Does he really “un-crash” the bike? Is it pure accident? The front end turns, putting the tire back in contact with the pavement—forcibly enough that the machine flips back upright with a hard shake that fails to unseat the rider. And he rides on.

At the 1990 USGP at Laguna Seca, when Eddie Lawson realized his front brake pads had fallen out, he put his bike on the ground instantly to scrub off as much velocity as possible before hitting the wall. A foot injury was the only result. A mechanic had failed to secure the pad retention pins.

Many a non-racing motorcyclist can tell similar stories illustrating the value of continuing to think and act in a crisis.

An example from aviation dates to World War II, as a TB-29 climbed through 8,800 feet on a US training flight. A scanner aft reported an engine fire, with flames streaming back nearly to the tail. All knew it would shortly heat the wing’s aluminum main spar enough to weaken and collapse it. Carbox bottles were useless against a big engine fire.

There’s plenty of riding left to be done as crashes happen. (MotoGP /)

No action from the cockpit. The flight engineer (FE), who faces aft in that aircraft, jumped up to investigate. The pilot was capering around the flight deck, hysterically shouting for his parachute. The co-pilot gripped his yoke, rigid with fear. The bombardier was struggling up out of his position in the nose. The FE calmed the pilot: “Sir, you are wearing your parachute.”

Next he suggested the pilot might ring the bail-out bell, depressurize the aircraft, and drop the nosewheel, so the cockpit escape hatch (through the nosewheel retraction bay) could be opened. Next, he sent the bombardier back to his position for his parachute. The two of them detached the co-pilot’s fingers from the yoke, one by one. The bomb bay doors were opened: the aft crew’s escape route. The FE was out last and descended safely with others onto Kansas farmland.

When a crisis develops, retain and use whatever control of events you still have. Don’t give up.

View the full article

[fullscreenaging]

Well done Kevin

 

Short, sweet and interesting. You actually left me wanting more of the article instead of giving up early. 
 

Keep up the good work.