Sunday 5 May 2013

Prepare to race

during the summer of '89, I was sitting at home with a broken collarbone. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, I was really hooked on the idea of racing as it was the first time anyone had said to me that I was actually good at something.
The thought of excelling at something was new to me and filled me with a new feeling of positive anticipation, whilst simultaneously a dreaded feeling of failure if I didn't live up to my expectations.

My plans to build the F1 Gamma unfortunately had to be scrapped (it would have been an awsome road bike), so I ended up selling it to another old school friend in the village who had just past his test on a TZR125. I sold the Gamma for a little more than what I paid for it, which all went toward my racing fund - (2 weeks later the Gamma was a rightoff and the rider in hospital after chasing my old Nessie down the A30).
I decided to purchase a Kawasaki KR1 for the 250 production class and picked up a nice low mileage version from Seurbiton in Surrey. The fairing was replaced with a fibreglass version and the engine was sent off to Stan 'The Man' Stephens for a full on race tune.

As the '89 came to a close and as the new decade beagn the bike was coming along nicely ready for the new coming racing season. Then something happened that really changed my life...

During the early part of 1990, me and three other friends were out for a night in a nearby village. We toured a few of the pubs in Whitchurch, before making our way home. I was the passenger in the front seat lightly dozing on the journey home. As we came through Overton High Street, I noticed a parked lorry in front of us. The driver was heading straight towards the rear of the lorry, but I assumed that he would eventually see it and swerve out of the way. It soon became apparent to me that the driver had not seen the lorry and all I managed to scream before we hit the lorry was "WHATCH....!" before everything went black.

The driver of the car only saw the parked lorry at the last moment and swerved the car, but it was too late, the passenger side took the full impact as the bonnet slid under the tail gate.
The passenger window exploded in my face covering me with glass, the roof collapsed onto my head and chest with such force that it broke the tilt mechanism of the chair and forced the chair down flat. Metal shards caused multiple facial bone fractures, split my lower face from my lip to my chin as well as pieces protruding through my mouth and down my throat. Another metal shard had crushed and pierced my forehead and the roof section had pressed down so hard on my chest that it broke 5 of my ribs.

Thats me still in there..

Fortunately for the other three in the car, they all escaped injury.
I awoke about 15 minutes later and could not move any part of my body except my left arm.
I remember someone holding and squeezing my hand, urging me to hold on as I heard sobs and crying in the background and the salty taste of my own blood trickling down my throat.
The experience of waking up in the car pinned to my seat felt strangely odd as moments earlier, I really felt as though I was standing in the darkened hallway of my parents house thinking to myself, how the hell did we miss that lorry.
The pain was horrendous and I could hardly breathe, but strangely enough, I felt very sleepy and just wanted to nod off again so that the pain would just go away.
A while later, the fire brigade arrived and set about cutting the doors and roof from the car. The vibration of the disc cutter penetrated my entire body....you think a dentist drill is bad, boy....this is WAYY worse!

After I was lifted from the car, the pain eased and I felt an overwhelming wave of relief. I was then carted off to Basingstoke general hospital for treatment.
I  was rushed off to surgery where a maxilofacial surgeon set about repairing me as best he could (over the next 12 years I underwent  more corrective maxilofacial surgery).
I was released from hospital several days later to recoup at home and returned to work about 6 weeks later.

The accident itself, despite being a very painful and traumatic experience, was not the life changing experience that affected me the most.

Up until this point, I could safely say that I was part of a wide social circle and I would be out most weekends partying or clubbing. It felt like a great time in my life, but I was to later find out, how valuable those 'friends' really were.
You see, the driver of the car was a charismatic, witty popular kind of guy who people would love to associate with (like me), however, after the accident which was clearly his fault (he was even prosecuted by the Police), no one wanted to say a bad word against him and he was also saying very personal disparaging  things about me behind my back after the accident.
Literally I found myself overnight from having lots of 'friends' to having none. I then learnt a very valuable lesson in my life back then that people can be so fake and will say and do just about anything to be popular or be with popular people.

Anyway, with the accident behind me, and wishing to not dwell on the situation, I tuned my attention back to racing.
The I got the engine back from Stan Stephens, got the bike ready, and I entered my first race at Snetterton which was a circuit that I had never seen before in April 1990.


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