We called it our Ocean-to-Ocean Odyssey. We were to journey cross-country, Atlantic to Pacific, on our motorcycles – myself and seven buddies. Dr. Jack, T-Bone, Meat, KO, Fran were on Harleys, while Bator and Age manned an RV that was crammed with food and support equipment.
We left from my summer home at the Jersey shore on June 17, 1999. About fifty miles into the trip, the rain began. As the lead bike at the time, I pulled under an overpass and onto the shoulder of the road so we could change into waterproof and warm clothing. A summer rain may not seem like much, but at sixty miles per hour – with no roof and no walls around you – the first thing you notice is that each drop feels like a knife slash, and the next thing you notice is that June sure does feel like January.
I was one step into my dismount, and then…
I was in the middle of the road, and I didn’t know how I got there. I was getting wet. And I noticed that I knocked my boot off. I picked it up, looked inside, and then I realized that my foot was still in it! The only thing keeping my foot attached to my leg was a flap of skin, a couple of tendons, and some strips of denim that were left from my damaged jeans.
It just so happened that one of the bikes had skidded out of control on the wet surface and clipped my leg as it passed by. Unfortunately for me, the steel rods that protrude from each side of a motorcycle called “highway pegs” where a rider rests his feet cut my leg off like a scythe cuts off high grass.
So, instead of journeying cross-country, I traveled cross-town to the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania, where trauma orthopedic surgeon Dr. Bill DeLong and renowned plastic surgeon Dr. David Lowe performed the first of six surgeries in hopes of saving my leg from the amputation saw. |
