441-21?? Or was it 44?-?121 That's what I pondered just before the accident.  A young flaming redhead in a cherry red Mazda Miata convertible was trying to hold up a small piece of paper with her phone number scrawled on it. But the wind was jittering the paper all about. And the numbers were too small for my weak eyes. I was cruising right alongside her, close, and I couldn't make out all the numbers. The good news is I will still be able to ride, after physical therapy. The bad news is my Virago. It was a beautiful ride. I can't hear in my right ear, my left wrist snapped like a chicken bone. My left elbow is wired together, my left shoulder got dislocated twice. My collarbone broke on me, as well, and all five toes on my right foot are folded back. Oh yeah, my tailbone fractured. Other than that I have a mild concussion, but I've had those several times before. I fall down sometimes. Anyway, concussions go away by themselves, just by ignoring them.  I remember. There was the muffled boom of a gunshot bang. The semi tractor trailer in front of me charged a bump and something inside punched out a folding section of the sliding rear panel door. It flew out to me with wings. The sunlight lit the panel up nice and bright so I could watch it zoom into me.  I'm in the hospital now, very uncomfortable. Who brought half of my helmet to the hospital? Am I supposed to marvel at that? Where's my bike? Who cares about the helmet! I thought I typed slow before, but this is a snail race with just my swollen right hand. I don't remember hitting my head, or the helmet coming off. Weird.  Nurse!, bring in the catheter! Sometimes the room just seems to spin slightly, ...can you slow down the I.V. drip? I'm in a draft! Hospital bed sheets remain cold even when heated. My insurance will cover the bike, I hope. If they don't total it out then I'll get to keep it. Maybe it would be better totaled out. It's like, who wants to eat refurbished fruit? (That's what hospital food tastes like, and I'm not looking forward to more of it.) What a headache, but accidentally everything happened so slowly. I just don't see the whole purpose of it yet. These experiences don't just happen for no reason.  I ask myself, "Self, if my helmet breaks in half, how are my glasses still on?" There is plenty of time to ask Self some questions. Time is indeed relative. The more you think, the longer it takes, or something like that. Until today there was never a problem thinking faster than speaking, or thinking faster than doing... The paramedics scared me more than the accident for that very reason. I kept saying, "what are you doing to me? When are you going to do something that helps me? I REALLY DO HAVE MEDICAL INSURANCE!" The truck bounced slightly and a section of the bottom panel of the rear sliding door popped out... How often does that happen? Should I be glad the truck's brakes didn't lock up and let me sail in through the hole?  And the day started off so nicely, with the sky blue from edge to yonder. At the Quick Trip gas station I won $148.00 on my Missouri Lottery Ticket. Yeah! The gas didn't drip on the tank during fill-up... How often does that happen!? Twenty minutes later a red-hot redhead is smiling at me on I-70... It's funny how everything fell in place for the accident. With a good breakfast this morning I wouldn't be suffering so much. Five hours of surgery. And my rear end... wow. I like blond's in red Miata's too.  I had slowed down, I kept turning my head to try and read the slip of paper she was holding up. I was smiling, and I was coasting down to about 40, and the semi had just pulled in front of me when it made the bump near the Lindbergh exit ramp.  What better way to tip the scales of life in my favor. She was an angel to slow me down like that, or I'd be dead. She saved my life. Where have you gone to, Ms. Rescue? I lived! You can drive me to physical therapy! Cut me a lock of your hair! I usually fly at eighty miles an hour, unless I'm in a hurry. From the moment my accident was personally delivered to me, everything was in crystal clear focus. It was like being an astronaut in weightless space, floating silently along, sideways, looking for the spot to land the lunar module. The terrain was illuminated with ample contrast and Hasselblad cross hairs. Beep. "Captain Ken," the Brain radio called, "we've lost the landing gear. Keep your nose up. Hey, keep your whole head up!"  Self barked right back, "What? No landing gear? Don't you realize we're rotating? We're turning on our Y-axis!" "Good God, Brain!" Self grew impatient, "listen up, where's the pitch control? Think about it! We may be upside down right about the time of impact, comprende? Consider some yaw!"  The Nerves were falling in line by this time. Nerves had patriotically run out of the barracks and fell into ranks. They were saluting me. It was an uncomfortable feeling. I guess they were just doing their job. "Do something! Now!" Brain beckoned them. The door panel had struck the front tire of my Virago and cocked the bike quickly to the right, then I cocked, too. The seat of the bike rose up and gently pushed me off to the right even more, with my left knee coming up in the air. It was not really an up, it was the nudge to fall down. The handlebars went away from view. I'll always remember the moment had a few elements of grace. It was such a remarkable, fleeting moment to let go of both hand grips, to watch them depart from my loving control. Sad. I did not see my life pass before my eyes, I saw my bike falling away from me. I did not think about my ex-girlfriends, I wished my bike would be okay. I thought "Will you just look at this...?"  Mentally I recoiled into myself like a touched worm sprints back into the soil.  "Yes Captain!" Brain grasped the microphone, "first chance we get, we'll stabilize the ship. Coming up on the outer marker. Instrument Landing Systems are suspended. Visual Flight Rules are in effect. We're lowering the left arm now. Correction, the wrist seems to have given first contact. Get that arm up, up, up. No good, the elbow has failed at the radial. The legs are rolling forward now, slowly, slowly, too much yaw. Beep. Contact with the concrete, thirty degrees forward, loss of bladder control. Head impact in roughly 731 milliseconds." Brain was standing by. The bike got the worst of it, coming exhaust side down on all the chrome, skidding and throwing sparks, bouncing little. Awful. A rearview mirror bent like a licorice stick. The handlebars bent as well. My new fairing broke off and spun up like a saucer. The seat tore out. It was painful to see my yamaha dying in the street, riderless and exposed. I had a good, long, stabilized and color corrected digital image of it burning into me.  "Is this the best you can do? Who turned the sound off? Get the audiologist! Where is everybody? There were cars everywhere 6 seconds ago... What's the meaning of this shivering? I'm not cold, I'm hot, HOT!"  "There's a leak in the right boot, Captain. Fluid in the sock, ...will block pain now, pain is going to be blocked. Confirmed, the boot has been compromised."  "Not my new boots! Hey, I didn't feel anything in my boots! Am I sure? Which one was it? Wait, did we just bounce again? I'm moving up now, good, I'm sitting up again." "Roger that, roger the feeling. Although we have the perception of a pause here, upright, there is no pause. Negative. We are in direct contact with reality. Our tailbone took a hit at minus-two-niner-zero degrees. No report on the torque readings yet... There will be a sensation of cold, momentarily." "You have a message. You may now freely talk at God," Self injected. Brain smiled, "that means we'll be stopping soon, won't we? I'll talk to God later. Let's get this ride over with. Never did think we wouldn't make it through, you know." Nerves got their orders right about then. "Not so fast. We have to slide along the pavement for a stretch. No choice, we're commited. Watch the rubble on your left, don't use the hand, keep the elbow up. Relax the shoulder, easy, more, easy. Hey! Remember about the hand! Okay, shoulder is turning, easy now, shoulder is turning more, ok, no, no, we're past the limit. There's dislocation at the shoulder. Incoming! Long shards of black rubber tire, small stones, more stones. We're rolling to the right... slowing down." I saw every rock, stone, pebble, and sand grain before I felt it. And when I did feel it, it felt like music. Every gash and scratch in my chaps and jacket hurt, and the ferocious pace of contacts had symphonic overtones. Pain in counterpoint. I mean, loudness, ...I heard the hurting in my ears like loud trumpeted notes. I heard the pain as the State Championship Marching Band halftime competition filled the field. That's when I stopped thinking about my bike. Nerves were at their duty stations. "How long is this going to take? I'm really not curious anymore. I don't feel any cold on my tail, I feel the warmth of a freshly ignited blasting cap," Self said. "You can relax. The blasting cap is an illusion," Nerves took me over. "Let's get everybody on the line here! Come on synapse, everybody get fired up! Stand up and be counted, that means everyone! Old, new, seasoned and retired, lets all connect now for Brain. Every last limping connection gets made! No one gets left out! Now Go! Go! Go!" Self went and sat down somewhere out of the way.  And that was the end of my accident. Well, almost was.  From that point on it should have been the recovery stage. Paid, full-time medical para-professionals doing their utmost. A clean ambulance with strobe lights and multicolor flashers. We just had one touching problem with Huey and Luey, the uniformed technicians. They had never re-located a dis-located shoulder, yet. They methodically overlooked my broken collarbone. Because of them, those adrenalin addicted men of medicinal proceedures, I didn't go into shock; I went into dear stratosphere.  There was the absolute and burning commitment on Brain and Self's behalf to escape the pseudo medics. The mach speed sky of blue yonder was the only place I allowed Nerves to take me.