Fall from grace

There was a really good discussion on R4 this afternoon between a couple of people who'd had bad falls. One out of a fast moving boat, the other down the side of a cliff.

This started my subconscious going - I was driving at the time so my conscious was occupied - thinking about vehicle accidents I'd been in. Not that many luckily.

The first one was when I had a motorbike. Never again. When I first started working I had no mode of transport and in those long off days you could ride a motorbike - not more than 125cc - on a provisional licence for two years. Which I did.

I'd never ridden a motorbike until I picked my new Honda 125cc from the shop. How I didn't kill myself in the first few weeks is a complete mystery. In fact I did pretty well only coming a cropper once in the two years I owned it. I went over a nail, the back tyre went flat, and the back end started bouncing in a somewhat ungainly manner.

Iinstead of stopping and then looking at what had happened, I looked down over my shoulder. At that point turning the handlebars, and I went flying over them as the bike lurched to a halt and I fell on my hands in the other lane. I didn't realise I was being followed by a police car, but they were kind and helped me get the bike to the motorbike shop in Wilmslow which is now an Indian restaurant. My wrists hurt for a while after, but no lasting damage to either me or the bike.

The next one was coming home as a passenger in a Ford Granada estate from having a curry in Rusholme. As we headed along the dual carriageway a small car appeared at the side junction ahead on the left. We both clocked it. It started to come out of the junction, had a change of mind and stopped and then, too late tried to make bolt for it.

It was a flimsy little french estate and he hit it towards the rear spinning it around a couple of times and throwing the contents of the car across the road. The Granada, being a big heavy thing, while damaged, protected us fine. I do remember the whole event happening in slow motion. It meant we were late getting to the pub.

The most recent was in North Wales early one morning with fresh snow on the ground and the car going straight on when I tried to negotiate a bend, and hitting a lamppost and a stone wall. Slowly, I thought, but knackered the front of the car.

I also pulled out from a junction not having seen a car coming from the right, and sending it into the wall of a local pub. No casualties, but the woman I hit was, not unreasonably, shaken up.

The most spectacular was when I was overtaken on the motorway by a Sliver Lexus going backwards. It it the central reservation, and bounced back into the carriageway, hitting me on the side and sending me spinning off into a field. I was SO lucky as I hit a fence post going backwards so the impact just forced me into the seat. Had I gone forward there could have been all sorts of nasty consequences. The car was completely written off but I escaped with sore biceps. I'd been gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Such an adrenaline rush. I remember standing on the hard shoulder calculating if I'd missed my train to London and whether I could make the next one. I have some pictures somewhere, I'll look them out and scan them for a later blog.

Hope that's the last. They aren't fun.