MARCH SUCKED.

March 8, 12:30 P.M., the day before I was scheduled to leave for Daytona, I packed my bag and went out in the garage and put it on my bike. I use the bag as a back rest so I needed to adjust the mirrors. I sat on the bike, adjusted the mirrors, thought I had the kick stand down in the locked position, leaned the bike over and it went right to the floor with me on it. My left leg and foot was pinned. There was no one home to help me get out from under it. Finally after a few minutes I was free. I didn’t feel like I was hurt too much so I started trying to right the bike. After several attempts I finally made it. Only damage was very small scratches on the derby cover. Some oil had leaked out. (On the way back from Daytona, I discovered an oil leak at the shifter seal.)

3:00 P.M., My left foot started to swell and hurt so bad I couldn’t touch it much less walk on it. I had to get some old crutches of my son’s out of the attic in order to walk.

March 9, 1:00 A.M., My foot hurts so bad, I can't sleep. I call Pete and tell him what happened and that I can't go.

4:00 A.M., My foot seemed to be getting better so I figured it must be a bad sprain.

6:00 A.M., I can walk without the crutches. Lot of pain. I call Pete back and tell him I’m going even if I have to pack the crutches on the bike.

12:00 Noon, Pete DiOrio, Hunter Arend, Greg Goodin, myself and Pete’s girl friend in a rental car leave for Daytona. We were suppose to leave at 9:00 A.M. Less than 5 miles down I-10 just out of downtown, Hunter’s bike breaks down. It looks major. He manages to make it home. A few minutes later, we’re doing 60 to 65 miles an hour down I-10 when a huge flattened cardboard box, measuring about 5’ x 5’, blows out of the back of a BFI industrial garbage truck, hits me like a disk, head on. It flattened my windshield, both mirrors, I ducked and it caught me right in the forehead of my helmet. The force was so great that it almost knocked me off. I immediately pulled over. It hit so hard, I had a headache for about an hour afterwards. (Thank God I had my approved helmet on and not my beanie.) After that blow, you’re going to have a hard time convincing me a good helmet can't save your life. Sure it was a freak accident, but that’s what you have to be prepared for. There is not a doubt in my mind, that if I would have been wearing my beanie or no helmet at all, I wouldn’t be here, period.

Same day, unknown time. Location, somewhere in Louisiana. Greg decides to exit the freeway at 65. Wanted to make a phone call. I tried to make the exit with him, but left the curve at 65 mph. The bile went sideways in the soft grass and mud. I said to myself, this is it, I’m going down. The bike then went sideways the other way. I’m still on 2 wheels. I straighten it up but the rear end is going from one side to the other. I feel I’ve lost it and I’m going down. I figured since I’m going down, I might as well ride it. To my amazement after traveling over a 100 feet I regain control. Pete’s girl who was following said, she had never seen anything like it. She thought I had a blow out on my rear tire. When we all finally stopped, I told them I needed to change my pants.

Somewhere that day, I don’t remember where or when, we ran into Geno Nash at a filling station. He rode along with us for a while and figured out he was riding with a bunch of nuts. First chance he got, he split and I don’t blame him. I would have too if I could. Later, he nicknamed us Scuzzy, Fuzzy and Muzzy. Might as well said the three stooges. That’s about the way we were and the trip too. I’m not going to go into all the screwy details of the trip, the newsletter isn’t long enough.

March 12, On the way back from Daytona, I hit some loose gravel at a turn under the freeway and almost lost the bike again. I hurt my sore foot again. A few hours later, I almost lose it again following Greg across the highway median. Later that night, I lose $110.00 gambling in Biloxi Mississippi. Can't find a motel room.

March 13, Sunday, 3:30 A.M., finally find a motel room.

March 16, the Chapter awarded me a nipple to wear around my neck for a month for dropping my bike. Nothing new, I got it 2 times last year. One time for dropping my bike in Daytona in ’93.

March 24, I pull up behind a pickup truck with a camper on it at a stop sign. The stop sign is at Hwy. 290 and the traffic is heavy both ways. The pickup truck is being driven by a 19 year old, home on spring break. The truck was his parents’. They don’t call these kids spring breakers for nothing. They break things. The kid decides he is not going to be able to pull out onto 290, so he drops it in reverse and floors it. He backed right over me. Estimated damage to the Harley, about $2,000. Me, road rash on my right knee.

That’s it, the bike must be a jinx. Two days later I traded it off.

March 30, received another nipple to wear.