I would like to thank findingmyvoice for all of her hard work making this story better. There is no explicit sex in this story. Please take the time to vote and comment. Feedback is always welcome.
--------------------
The tires were disintegrating beneath me as I rolled through the gears coming out of the carousel. Hitting over two-hundred miles per hour on the straight away, the adrenaline pumped through my ice cold veins. I begged silently for my machine to hold together.
This was the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy. If you have never watched this race, it's one hell of a ride. The first time I saw it, I knew I had to ride it. What a rush, to ride balls out on a street course that was over thirty-seven miles long.
The one race that I loved to watch, but never tried was the sidecar race. These people were insane and knew exactly what they were doing. The person in the sidecar had to be perfectly positioned, going into the turns and coming out. Sometimes, because of the high speeds and tight corners, it looked like their bodies might be hurled off the little platform.
The first race they held was on May 28th, 1907. What a difference a century makes. Charlie Collier had won the first race on a Matchless cycle with an average course speed of 38.21mph. At just over a hundred years later, the track record now sits at 132.298mph.
I still couldn't believe I was riding this race. The machine I rode had never been pushed so hard. Memorizing every one of the 260 turns, noting each bump and pit in the road, and trying not to think about the other two-hundred souls lost on this very course, was nerve wracking.
I was on a blistering pace and ahead of Bruce Anstey's record. I had not planned to push that hard, but obviously if I was on pace for the record, I was going after it.
My front tire gave up at 160mph along a sweeping right curve. I was going down no matter what I did at this point. The real question was, would I make it out alive? The bike did a quick wobble and I knew I had to get off of it.
Abandoning any moving vehicle at that speed, one would think was psychotic. At least I was able to make the choice rather than the bike making it for me. That alone would increase my chances for survival.
I remember sliding and then everything went black. That wasn't supposed to happen! I should have slid until my inertia ran out, or hit something that stopped me. I'm betting the latter occurred.
*********************************
My head was throbbing and noises were all around me as I opened my eyes. Nothing happened! I blinked my eyes yet darkness remained. I couldn't move. I was strapped down. I felt a warm rush in my arm and then consciousness escaped me.
Pain and more pain is what my brain told me as I awoke from my induced slumber. Every breath I took shot sharp and jagged jabs throughout my body.
My eyes, what happened to my eyes?
I wondered as I recalled opening them without my sight.
A voice rang through my head,
stay still, you've been in an accident.
I remember hearing this woman calling for the doctor. Thank God my head didn't feel like it had earlier. I put my hands on my head. Bandages. Thick bandages. I felt like a mummy.
"Doctor Williams here, Son. Do you know your name?"
Of course I know my name,
I thought to myself. "Kyle Hobbs."
"That's a great sign, Mr. Hobbs. We thought we lost you there for a little bit."
"My eyes doctor, what happened to my eyes?" I said, trying not to sound scared.
"Son, you are lucky to be alive. Your helmet cracked like an egg. We had to operate to relieve the pressure on your brain. You have a few broken ribs as well. Your eyesight should return within a few days."
"We are going to keep you here for observation," he said. "Your eyesight should start to return by tomorrow. Just relax and let us do our jobs. You have some visitors, but we do not want to tire you out, so we will let one visitor in at a time."
The doctor left the room after giving the nurse instructing the nurse to change my bandages.. I could hear her fumbling around. She instructured me to keep me eyes closed while she did her job.
A few minutes later my crew chief, Bill Cross, came in the room. "Holy shit, Kyle, you had us worried man! That was a gnarly wreck. The bike is toast and so are you in the foreseeable future."
"What the hell happened, Bill?" I asked, knowing I had blown the front tire.
Bill explained what they saw on the video. "The front tire blew and the bike shimmied. You did the right thing by getting off of it. The bike went over off the cliff. You would have been toast too. You slid along the asphalt and hit your head on a tree. The helmet saved your life Kyle."
"Well at least one investment did its job," I said, while I thought about how I could replace my bike.
"Let's not worry about anything right now, Kyle. We need to get you fixed up, we will worry about the rest later," Bill said, trying to keep me calm.
I told Bill I didn't want any visitors and I would have the hospital contact him if I needed anything. He said that he would take care of it.
***********************
The pain meds had knocked me out shortly after Bill left the room. I yawned and winced in pain as my ribs didn't agree with me yawning.
"Welcome back," came the sound of an angel. "You look like death warmed over."
"What time is it?" I asked politely.
She answered, "1:30 in the morning, Ricky Rocket."
"The doctor gave me my own comedic nurse, huh?" I said with disdain.
"No silly, I saved your ass after you wrapped your head around that tree. The ambulance was at least fifteen minutes away. You would have surely died waiting for them."
She explained that I had crashed right in front of her. She told me she had been taking pictures of the riders as they went by and caught my entire crash.
She and her partner had pulled her truck up to where my lifeless body laid, and dragged me on to her trailer. Not losing any time, her partner drove, maneuvering down the mountain, while she held me as still as possible. We arrived at the hospital just as the ambulance would have made it to the crash scene.
"Too bad that tire didn't last. It would have been nice to see the record broken," she said softly.
"I think the abuse my bike suffered was too much for the tire to handle," I said seriously and then added, "Who are you again?"
"Katy Malloy. I ride sidecars," she stated as if I wouldn't recognize the family name.