atomsplitter
Living Legend
- Joined
- Nov 29, 2007
- Messages
- 4,323
- Location
- Keller, TX
- Ride
- 23 Rocket GT, 20 Bobber Blk, 22 Speed Triple RS
This is a long read so patience:
The thread title may seem a bit odd, but having just done one, I'm against them. A ride is when you go from point A where you start to point B, where the ride ends, a double ride however is the same two points but two different vehicles. My double ride was on my Rocket GT and then in an ambulance. to point B. My Rocket is fine, safe and not a scratch, me on the other hand I'm still in recovery. Let me explain. My son-in-law (Texas-Hooligan) and I have been looking forward to the Harrison, Arkansas 2026 ride for months. I booked a VRBO in Harrison, and we planned to ride to Jasper in the mornings to join the group rides. We installed a third wheel chock in my trailer and took my Rocket GT, Speed Triple RS, and SIL's Speed Triple. A couple days before leaving for Arkansas something started going sideways with my urinary system as hitting the head was more painful than it should have been. Not wanting to miss out I figured I could gut it out for the few days we would ride and then see the doc about what was going down somewhat painfully with the sprinkler system. In hindsight that was not a great plan.
We arrived in Arkansas at the VRBO on Wednesday 10/7 and got settled in. We then went to dinner at the local Cajun food restaurant where I enjoyed a very large plate full of shrimp and grits. We went back to the VRBO after dinner, and I made some cocktails and we sat down to watch some episodes of Ted Lasso and while enjoying the show I started feeling cold. Shivery cold. It's an odd feeling and one I knew meant I likely got a bug (I thought from dinner). Went to bed after Lasso was over and no matter how much I bundled up, wrapped and cocooned myself in blankets I could not seem to throw off the chill. That left me awake and aware when my bladder would ring the full bell and I had to get unwrapped and take care of business. The weird part was that was happening with alarming regularity, about once an hour, and the tank full notification came with greater and greater urgency as it progressed through the night. Somewhere in the 0 dark thirty hours nausea was added to the mix of sensations I was dealing with, and I was convinced it must have been the shrimp. On one midnight trip to the head for an urgent need to empty my bladder I got so nauseated I had my first technicolor yawn in 50 years. Believe me when I say that not everything from the hose or the pie hole hit target. That was a revelation in disgusting moments to treasure. I hope the VRBO cleaner can forgive me. But after that episode my stomach settled and the chills subsided, so problem solved, I thought. Getting back in bed I then went into phase II, hot flash from hell mode. That got the old pores opened up as I enjoyed the awesomeness of becoming a sweaty night-time mess. OK maybe some residual from that shrimp after all. I felt pretty miserable, but I wasn't nauseated so improvement. Thursday morning, I got up and met SIL heading out the door and told him I wasn't feeling well enough to ride, so we should put it off until Friday. He agreed since I had the look of hammered dog meat.
Spent Thursday resting, sleeping, and trying to recover and I felt a lot better by dinner time but didn't want to chance anything so decided to just eat a couple water crackers and see how the stomach responded overnight. By bedtime the chills started up again and that night while I didn't have to express the crackers I ate in kindergarten the nausea did show up. It faded after a couple hours, so progress. What also progressed was the frequency and urgency of the toilet hops to empty my bladder. When the chills finally turned off, the heater turned on immediately for the rest of the night and once again I'm hammered dog meat when the sun comes up. Being stubborn and ignorant helps make poor decisions, which is why I chose to make the group ride rather than go to the Urgent Care in town and get checked out. Looking at it in hindsight that would have been the smarter play. SIL and I made the trip down to Jasper to meet the group and join the days ride. Spent a few minutes introducing ourselves and chatted before taking off. I figured I could feel "off" sitting on my Rocket as well as the couch in the VRBO and I was likely to enjoy the Rocket more. And we started off and it was great. The mountain roads around that area are fantastic, a real pleasure to ride. As the morning wore on, I began to wear out. We pulled off the highway for a short break and Sparky59 (I think) said we were going to Oark for lunch, about 45 minutes further down the road. I was feeling at that time I'd need to leave the group and head back to Harrison when we stopped for lunch. About 10 to 15 miles outside Oark I started to get dizzy while riding my bike on twisty roads that demand attention. That's not a great time to be dizzy. It began affecting my riding enough that SIL riding behind me asked if I was OK over our helmet comms. I told him I was getting dizzy and opening my face shield was helping to clear my head. A few miles further the open face shield wasn't enough and the dizziness returned. in force. We had made it to a one-lane road work stop light a couple miles from Oark and when we stopped SIL asked again if I needed to stop and this time, I was in such misery I said yes.
Many many years ago, Honda ran an ad campaign of "You meet the nicest people on a Honda." Well, I can testify that you can meet them just as much on a Triumph too, especially when it's emergency services. Herein I have to thank the wonderful people who stopped to help me from the group ride, however the only one I could lift my head up long enough to recognize was Mexican (THANK YOU LUPE for riding my bike over to the fire station). Whoever gave me the bottle of water my sincere thanks, and the person with the SAT phone to get the ambulance again thanks. Sorry I didn't get your names but feel free to add your notes to this thread in recognition of your contribution to the festivities. Festivities because it became a festival of sirens that lasted about 30 to 40 minutes. The Road and Bridge emergency team showed up, the local fire chief arrived, as did the sheriff's department as well as the highway patrol. I was fast becoming the local first responder entertainment center with everyone surprised to find my bike on the side stand and not a scratch on it. It's my guess they are more used to finding wads of humans and bikes on the roadsides than fat old men sitting on the road shoulder looking like death warmed over or poster of a yellow plague victim. Oddly, every one of the first responders that approached me asked the exact same question, "can I test your blood sugar?" I'm thinking maybe carrying a few extra pounds automatically qualifies me for the diabetes club, but I don't have diabetes, never have to this point. When the ambulance finally showed up, I was helped to my feet and I got on the gurney voluntarily. I finally relented at letting someone poke my finger for a blood sample as we took off for the hospital as the EMT thought it was prudent. He looked a bit confused when the results were normal. So, then he put an IV in and took a number of vials of blood for lab work and then started a saline drip. The rest of the journey to the hospital on Ozark Mountain roads was akin to riding a dump truck in a gravel quarry, it was loud, bumpy, and full of turns, jerks, pitches, and yaws. Suffice to say the rest of my day didn't go any smoother. At the hospital I was diagnosed with a UTI that was kicking my butt big time, so they started me on antibiotics. If I had had the strength to finish my ride it would have ended at the Urgent Care in Harrison. As it turned out it was the hospital in Clarksville. In both cases point B of my ride was going to be medical attention.
I would be remiss if I didn't give a special shout out to my son-in-law Tom Church for helping with the aftermath of my idiocy. My bike was taken to the fire station (again thanks Lupe) and he had to ride back to the VRBO solo (he got lost on the way of course), get my truck and trailer, go back to Oark and collect my Rocket and then strap everything down to handle the pig trail on the way back to Harrison after picking me up in Clarksville. Kudos Tom for the great assist. I owe you a Brisket. We left Sunday and I'm back home now recuperating (and taking antibiotics) to get this thing under control. I actually slept last night for more than 30 minutes, so progress. I'm thinking the moral of this tale is that when your body is telling you something, listen, don't let your head convince you it'll be alright because you're totally jazzed to do some activity, like ride the Pig Trail in the fall. Riding safe includes taking care of yourself first, lesson learned (again, the hard way).
The thread title may seem a bit odd, but having just done one, I'm against them. A ride is when you go from point A where you start to point B, where the ride ends, a double ride however is the same two points but two different vehicles. My double ride was on my Rocket GT and then in an ambulance. to point B. My Rocket is fine, safe and not a scratch, me on the other hand I'm still in recovery. Let me explain. My son-in-law (Texas-Hooligan) and I have been looking forward to the Harrison, Arkansas 2026 ride for months. I booked a VRBO in Harrison, and we planned to ride to Jasper in the mornings to join the group rides. We installed a third wheel chock in my trailer and took my Rocket GT, Speed Triple RS, and SIL's Speed Triple. A couple days before leaving for Arkansas something started going sideways with my urinary system as hitting the head was more painful than it should have been. Not wanting to miss out I figured I could gut it out for the few days we would ride and then see the doc about what was going down somewhat painfully with the sprinkler system. In hindsight that was not a great plan.
We arrived in Arkansas at the VRBO on Wednesday 10/7 and got settled in. We then went to dinner at the local Cajun food restaurant where I enjoyed a very large plate full of shrimp and grits. We went back to the VRBO after dinner, and I made some cocktails and we sat down to watch some episodes of Ted Lasso and while enjoying the show I started feeling cold. Shivery cold. It's an odd feeling and one I knew meant I likely got a bug (I thought from dinner). Went to bed after Lasso was over and no matter how much I bundled up, wrapped and cocooned myself in blankets I could not seem to throw off the chill. That left me awake and aware when my bladder would ring the full bell and I had to get unwrapped and take care of business. The weird part was that was happening with alarming regularity, about once an hour, and the tank full notification came with greater and greater urgency as it progressed through the night. Somewhere in the 0 dark thirty hours nausea was added to the mix of sensations I was dealing with, and I was convinced it must have been the shrimp. On one midnight trip to the head for an urgent need to empty my bladder I got so nauseated I had my first technicolor yawn in 50 years. Believe me when I say that not everything from the hose or the pie hole hit target. That was a revelation in disgusting moments to treasure. I hope the VRBO cleaner can forgive me. But after that episode my stomach settled and the chills subsided, so problem solved, I thought. Getting back in bed I then went into phase II, hot flash from hell mode. That got the old pores opened up as I enjoyed the awesomeness of becoming a sweaty night-time mess. OK maybe some residual from that shrimp after all. I felt pretty miserable, but I wasn't nauseated so improvement. Thursday morning, I got up and met SIL heading out the door and told him I wasn't feeling well enough to ride, so we should put it off until Friday. He agreed since I had the look of hammered dog meat.
Spent Thursday resting, sleeping, and trying to recover and I felt a lot better by dinner time but didn't want to chance anything so decided to just eat a couple water crackers and see how the stomach responded overnight. By bedtime the chills started up again and that night while I didn't have to express the crackers I ate in kindergarten the nausea did show up. It faded after a couple hours, so progress. What also progressed was the frequency and urgency of the toilet hops to empty my bladder. When the chills finally turned off, the heater turned on immediately for the rest of the night and once again I'm hammered dog meat when the sun comes up. Being stubborn and ignorant helps make poor decisions, which is why I chose to make the group ride rather than go to the Urgent Care in town and get checked out. Looking at it in hindsight that would have been the smarter play. SIL and I made the trip down to Jasper to meet the group and join the days ride. Spent a few minutes introducing ourselves and chatted before taking off. I figured I could feel "off" sitting on my Rocket as well as the couch in the VRBO and I was likely to enjoy the Rocket more. And we started off and it was great. The mountain roads around that area are fantastic, a real pleasure to ride. As the morning wore on, I began to wear out. We pulled off the highway for a short break and Sparky59 (I think) said we were going to Oark for lunch, about 45 minutes further down the road. I was feeling at that time I'd need to leave the group and head back to Harrison when we stopped for lunch. About 10 to 15 miles outside Oark I started to get dizzy while riding my bike on twisty roads that demand attention. That's not a great time to be dizzy. It began affecting my riding enough that SIL riding behind me asked if I was OK over our helmet comms. I told him I was getting dizzy and opening my face shield was helping to clear my head. A few miles further the open face shield wasn't enough and the dizziness returned. in force. We had made it to a one-lane road work stop light a couple miles from Oark and when we stopped SIL asked again if I needed to stop and this time, I was in such misery I said yes.
Many many years ago, Honda ran an ad campaign of "You meet the nicest people on a Honda." Well, I can testify that you can meet them just as much on a Triumph too, especially when it's emergency services. Herein I have to thank the wonderful people who stopped to help me from the group ride, however the only one I could lift my head up long enough to recognize was Mexican (THANK YOU LUPE for riding my bike over to the fire station). Whoever gave me the bottle of water my sincere thanks, and the person with the SAT phone to get the ambulance again thanks. Sorry I didn't get your names but feel free to add your notes to this thread in recognition of your contribution to the festivities. Festivities because it became a festival of sirens that lasted about 30 to 40 minutes. The Road and Bridge emergency team showed up, the local fire chief arrived, as did the sheriff's department as well as the highway patrol. I was fast becoming the local first responder entertainment center with everyone surprised to find my bike on the side stand and not a scratch on it. It's my guess they are more used to finding wads of humans and bikes on the roadsides than fat old men sitting on the road shoulder looking like death warmed over or poster of a yellow plague victim. Oddly, every one of the first responders that approached me asked the exact same question, "can I test your blood sugar?" I'm thinking maybe carrying a few extra pounds automatically qualifies me for the diabetes club, but I don't have diabetes, never have to this point. When the ambulance finally showed up, I was helped to my feet and I got on the gurney voluntarily. I finally relented at letting someone poke my finger for a blood sample as we took off for the hospital as the EMT thought it was prudent. He looked a bit confused when the results were normal. So, then he put an IV in and took a number of vials of blood for lab work and then started a saline drip. The rest of the journey to the hospital on Ozark Mountain roads was akin to riding a dump truck in a gravel quarry, it was loud, bumpy, and full of turns, jerks, pitches, and yaws. Suffice to say the rest of my day didn't go any smoother. At the hospital I was diagnosed with a UTI that was kicking my butt big time, so they started me on antibiotics. If I had had the strength to finish my ride it would have ended at the Urgent Care in Harrison. As it turned out it was the hospital in Clarksville. In both cases point B of my ride was going to be medical attention.
I would be remiss if I didn't give a special shout out to my son-in-law Tom Church for helping with the aftermath of my idiocy. My bike was taken to the fire station (again thanks Lupe) and he had to ride back to the VRBO solo (he got lost on the way of course), get my truck and trailer, go back to Oark and collect my Rocket and then strap everything down to handle the pig trail on the way back to Harrison after picking me up in Clarksville. Kudos Tom for the great assist. I owe you a Brisket. We left Sunday and I'm back home now recuperating (and taking antibiotics) to get this thing under control. I actually slept last night for more than 30 minutes, so progress. I'm thinking the moral of this tale is that when your body is telling you something, listen, don't let your head convince you it'll be alright because you're totally jazzed to do some activity, like ride the Pig Trail in the fall. Riding safe includes taking care of yourself first, lesson learned (again, the hard way).
