901201	1105

The Tangerine Twenty
1 Dec 90  

The distance from zenith to nadir turns out to be maybe twenty yards in 
distance or 2 seconds in time.  On Saturday, 17 November, El Tour de 
Tucson had started at 7AM and I was cruising down Tangerine Road about 
10 miles into the 114-mile event in a group of a couple hundred.  We were 
going about 30 mph.  The mad dash from the start was over.  I hadn't 
managed to stay with the leaders and a group was in sight a couple 
hundred yards ahead of my group.  But, I was over the panic and the strain 
and I was satisfied with my position.  My breathing and heart rate were 
down to comfortable levels.  I felt the warm sun for the first time and 
relaxed, thinking this is going to be all right.  I can improve on my time 
from last year (5:45), maybe I can finish in about 5 hours.

Then it happened.  I saw some riders get sideways maybe 25 yards ahead 
of me and off to the left.  I was riding on the brake hoods in a comfortable 
pocket, not too close to anybody.  I started drifting further right and I 
thought I would get by.  I didn't try to brake.  Next thing I knew, I was 
sitting on the ground entangled in my bike.

Panic gasping, obvious problems but maybe I can get back on.  A few 
seconds evaluation revealed that my day was over.  I had clearly broken 
some ribs.  I slowly got to my feet and paced around on the side of the 
road.  Went back and moved my bike.  The 2700 or so riders that had been 
behind me continued streaming by.  Course marshals and other officials 
were taking charge of the carnage.  Race officials christened us the 
Tangerine Twenty.  I didn't count, but it seemed obvious there were well 
over a dozen people down.  One was lying awkwardly in the road 
surrounded by help, not moving.  A few others were at the roadside with 
me.  Some got up and continued.

I continued diagnosing my injuries.  My left collarbone was obviously 
broken.  A bone in my left hand was obviously broken, the bone above my 
little finger, the 5th metacarpal.  ("Obviously" means I could feel the 
break with my right hand).  Not much road rash.  Don't think I hit my head, 
my helmet had no obvious dings.  But I certainly had crash amnesia.

I talked to a lady who arrived at the intersection in her car and pointed 
her out to the cops who had arrived.   They weren't interested in helping 
her through the intersection and she was a good sport, turned her engine 
off and sat there with her family and waited patiently for at least 20 
minutes, I don't know, wasn't keeping track of the exact time.

Eventually, the cleanup crew got organized, they took care of the serious 
injuries, and they started transporting us to the hospital.  A young man 
informed me that they would cut my jersey off.  My favorite jersey!  I 
talked him into pulling it up over my shoulders, then I got my right arm 
out and pulled it off my left arm without having to move the arm much.  
The jersey turns out to have holes in it anyway...

The ambulance crew (Fred and Dorothy) was friendly, but they insisted on 
treating my like an acute injury, according to the rules, never mind that I 
had been walking around and directing traffic for what seemed like an 
hour.  That included putting a cervical collar on me and strapping me down 
on a board so I couldn't move.  I stayed in that position much too long.  By 
the time the somewhat overwhelmed Emergency Room Staff at NorthWest 
Hospital (at least four of us were brought there) finally inspected me and 
cut me loose, my most serious complaint was the back of my head where 
it was held directly against the wooden board. 

Since I was so cheerful, talking to the other people, etc. they left me until 
last.  They sent me off to Xray.  It was hard to get off the gurney and stand 
in the right position, lots of acute discomfort, slow work, but possible.  
At some point, they gave me a pain shot, but I'm sure it was after Xray.   
Then, they decided I might have ruptured my spleen, so they CAT-scanned 
me.  Eventually, they confirmed my personal diagnosis exactly: broken 
clavicle, broken 8th and 9th ribs, broken 5th metacarpal, all on the left.  
Spleen OK.

Late in the process, I was astonished to see Paul Solon walk by.  I called 
out to him and we chatted.  He had fallen in a separate incident later on 
and damaged his thumb.  Hard times for Paul, he is just recovering from a 
serious pre-RAAM collision which almost cost him his arm.  He and his 
wife Ann kept me company and contacted Elaine.  It was after noon by 
then, she had finished doing her TV coverage and she came to get me, drove 
me back to the hotel.

I flaked out for the rest of the day, skipped the award ceremony, faded in 
and out of TV football.  Slept surprisingly well, probably thanks to the 
painkillers.

Epilogue.

I had left my bike, helmet, and shoes at the scene.  A woman assured me 
the helmet and shoes would be OK, but they have yet to turn up.  I'm 
curious about the helmet, would like to inspect it and retrieve my Russian 
flag. And those are my only cycling shoes, need them back!  The bike is 
dead, sigh.  The bars put a nice ding in the top tube.  But the whole frame 
is bent, cracking and damage at the bottom bracket.  Tom Tease says it 
was dying anyway, maybe this is for the best, it might have failed some 
day at hight speed.  But it was a good old bike and I'm sorry to retire it.  
Twenty years old, Brink's bike, Elaine gave it to me a couple years ago for 
Xmas.

I kept a low-key Sunday, went to a brunch but left early, went to the 
traditional picnic at Richard's.  E brought a birthday cake, I had trouble 
blowing the candles out but I did it.
 
On Monday, I returned to the hospital to have my hand repaired.  They put 
me out and wired the bones together.  We spent that night at Linda and 
Tom's, watched Monday night football.  Tuesday AM we made a quick visit 
to the hand Dr.  Then ran errands and eventually hit the road home late in 
the afternoon with E driving.  I took over driving in the evening and E read.  
That's the way we finished the leisurely trip.  Spent two nights on the 
road in Yuma and Tehachapi, got home Thanksgiving afternoon.

Reasonable progress since then, put in a full work week.  Took my last 
painkiller Tuesday night.  Still have the cast on my hand, but I take if off 
to type.  Wear the butterfly brace for my shoulder essentially all the time.  
Enjoy various discomfort from all three injuries.  Finally saw Doc Barnes 
on Friday, 13 days after the crash.  He pronounced me in good shape for the 
shape I'm in, is arranging to get the wires out of my hand, etc.