Why Wear Safety Gear? Hmm... No, but I try to plan for what happens if I *do* fall. Case in point: 2:30 A.M., November 22nd, 1979 (Thanksgiving morning.) I was coming home from work on my '76 R75/6 and stopped at a red light. Suddenly, I noticed police "gumball" lights rotating and thought, "I'd better be careful; I don't want to get a ticket." Then it occurred to me that the lights weren't going "round and round" but rather "up and down." Hmm, that's odd... I turned my head to the left and saw a concrete curb sticking out of the ground; suddenly, I felt the pressure on my back and, as the world suddenly flopped 90 degrees, realized that I was lying on the ground. An ambulance came careening around the corner and stopped near me as I sat up. The driver was unloading the gurney when he saw me trying to stand. He yelled at me to "stay down, stay down!" Despite what turned out to be a subluxed (partially dislocated) left shoulder and a hyperextended right knee, I managed to get to my feet. My bike was embedded into the front of a Honda Civic about 120 feet behind me and I wanted to turn off the gas taps before the carbs leaked. (Funny how your mind works at times like that.) I took one step on my right leg and dropped like I had been shot. "OK," I thought, "staying down sounds like a pretty good plan after all." Besides the injuries already mentioned, I had a small scratch under my chin where the helmet buckle scratched me. Turns out the driver of the Civic had been at a bar, picked up a willing young lady and was in a hurry to get her to his place. He was doing 40 mph in a 30 mph zone, with his headlights off, and blew through a red light (and me.) I slid up the hood of his car and caved in his windshield and roof with the back of my helmet; I was then spit nearly 140 feet down the road and landed on my left shoulder and face. As the EMTs checked me out, I was "oriented times three." (I knew who I was, where I was and when it was.) As it turns out, the helmet had a mark from the windshield gasket that ran roughly ear to ear. Had it not been for my full-face helmet, my head would have been sliced open like a three-minute egg whacked by the sharp edge of a knife. As it was, I pissed blood for a few days, used crutches for a few weeks and was riding again within a month. As it is, I still have a permanent partial subluxation of the inferior aspect of the distal end of the clavicle at the achromio-clavicular joint. (Hey, flash, how'd I do? It's been 20 years and I still remember that. :) Or how about the time last summer, when I was driving along a nice country road in Colorado? It was 12:30 in the afternoon, sunny, dry and perfect visibility. Without warning, a 250 pound mule deer came charging out of the ditch by the side of the road. With the unerring accuracy of a heat seeking missile, this rat with antlers slammed into me as I was braking and trying to swerve out of the way. I slammed to the ground flat on my back with the K12LT upside down on top of me. As we slid towards the left shoulder I remember thinking, "This should be hurting a lot more than it is." As we slid to a stop, there was a violent jerk as some part on the bike caught an imperfection in the roadway and spun 180 degrees counter clockwise. After I stopped sliding, I did a quick inventory: finger wiggle, check; toe wiggle, check; back pain, neck pain; nope. As I dragged myself out from under the wreckage of the LT, I felt a twinge in my left knee. I picked up the bike and put it on the center stand. As I took off my one-piece Aerostich, I was grateful for the back protector and the hip pads; the heavy duty Cordura in the seat was worn through in a hole about 5" long by about 3" wide. Fortunately, I didn't have a scratch, bump or bruise on me. Unfortunately, my left knee had been caught under the bike when it made its final ground loop; my anterior cruciate and medial collateral ligaments were both completely torn. Reconstructive surgery a month later repaired my ACL; the MCL is still in recovery. I don't know if there is a "moral" to this story; if there is, perhaps it's "Shit Happens." Knowing that, I try to dress and ride in anticipation of that eventuality. Doing so has saved me more than once from a way of life very different from the one that I currently enjoy. I'm not sure what "riding skills" I could have improved to avoid being hit from behind at night by an unlighted car or during the middle of the day by a psychotic deer, but I continue to work on them. Anyway, may you continue to enjoy many more thousands of miles of trouble free riding. Me, I'll wear gear with the thought that it might not actually work out that way. Oh, and in case "Shit Happens" to you, and you haven't already done so, you might want to consider becoming an organ donor. I'm one. Best wishes, and may God bless you, too. Rick Rohlf Round Rock, TX