Frank Melling has raced in every form of motorcycle sport, toured the world on bikes and now owns, and organizes, the Thundersprint – one of Europe’s biggest bike festivals. Single Track Mind is Frank’s very own view of the world of motorcycles and motorcycling.
Frank Melling discovers that the first Yamaha Monoshock was not quite perfect. One of many such moments that had the potential of sending our man to the doc.
Welcome to this brand new column in Motorcycle USA, which you will be able to read either once, if the great and the good who hired me don’t like it, or perhaps even several times if they do. Fingers crossed then chaps!
Since I first began riding motorcycles in the mid 1800s, just after the conclusion of the American Civil War, I tend to have a rather long-term view of bikes and riding. My brief is to explore the nooks and crannies of the motorcycling world looking into the corners that MCUSA’s mainstream columnists do not cover: for example, medical care for racers.
Clearly, medical care is high on racers’ minds because, by the very nature of motorcycle sport, they get hurt. More importantly, racing injuries are not confined to superstars like
Jorge Lorenzo, who managed an incredible third place at
Laguna Seca thanks to Whoppa size helpings of analgesics and a personal set of cojones the size of a fit Hereford bull. On the contrary, life threatening injuries stretch a long way down the food chain - all the way to the lowest ranking amateur.
In Europe, we have what Americans, foolishly and with little concept of what they are saying, like to call “free medical care.” I am a big fan of the USA, and Americans - after all, the nation which invented the indestructible “Twinkie” rightly deserves the gratitude of the world - but this touching naivety that we have free medical care, whilst Americans have to pay for the services of a doctor, really does irritate.
We are taxed into oblivion by the central and local governments in order to have our free medical care and if you paid our taxes, and faced the degree of intervention into citizens’ private lives that we do, you would be burning the White House to the ground in protest.
Having said that, if you are badly hurt racing then the medical care is extremely good - and is free at the point of use. Life threatening injuries are treated instantly and with world class efficiency.
The Shoei RF-1000 helmet saved an MCUSA editor's hide, but the $16,000 tag that came with the CT scans were an unwelcomed suprise that the helmet couldn't protect against.
This is in stark contrast to the experience of MCUSA’s Head Honcho,
Ken Hutchison, who decided to hit the deck at 130 mph - and in the process managed to split a Shoei helmet. Breaking a Shoei was a rather spectacular feat since Shoei make some of the best helmets in the world and I have never, ever heard of one being split open.
Neither had the medics who rushed Kenny Baby off to hospital for a series of high-tech scans aimed at identifying brain damage. Ken’s brain was considered as undamaged as any other full time member of the motorcycle industry - which is not saying a lot - but the Boy Wonder truly went into shock when the nurse smilingly presented him with the bill for $16,000 - presumably plus a tip for room service. I should add that the $16K was for the scans alone. A box of Tylenol PM, to ensure a nice night’s nap, was an extra $14.95.
I have tried to get full value for my tax bills over the years by making the fullest use of intensive care beds the length and breadth of Britain but the way medical care has changed over the years calls me to question current practices. Take the time when I broke five ribs and punctured a lung - and very nearly died as a result.
I was a pretty good national enduro rider at the time and I was riding in a local charity motocross promoted by the Lions organization in support of a children’s hospital. I won the first three races of the day and was cruising round, pulling wheelies and generally showboating for the crowd.
On the last lap, I came to pass the same Muppet for the third time and he decided to show what a cool dude he was by pulling a stupid block pass. His handlebars went into my ribs and the next thing I remember is waking up in full blown Hollywood operating theatre with everyone looking very worried - including me when I heard the words: “He’s fading fast...” and the computery thing I was hooked up to began to make very stressed beeping noises indeed.
Then a miracle happened. A very pretty nurse bent over next to my bed and her delightfully translucent white dress wrapped tightly around a bottom which should have been immortalized by Michael Angelo. Better still, her choice in underwear was revealed to be very minimalist indeed.
Unlike 1977, nurses today don't quire wear the skimpy clothing... unless you are this guy who crashed at an actual race and got an umbrella girl escort to the ambulance.
The next bit of dialogue was most encouraging. “My God, his blood pressure has picked up!” noted the boss doctor incredulously. In fact, the news was better than that. Had he known what was happening under the lower parts of my surgical gown he would have been truly amazed and, I hope, impressed at the large doses of testosterone which gallop around in even a badly injured racer’s body.
That was 1977 and let’s look at the situation today. I had to take my Mum to hospital yesterday and I was absolutely dejected to see a wall of thick, navy blue, opaque trousers being worn by all the female staff. Now, in all honesty, what chance is there currently of a miracle recovery for poorly racers?
I think that there ought to be separate intensive care treatment for bike racers where all the nurses are pretty, and are encouraged to wear traditional white clothing as they repeatedly bend down to retrieve equipment from low cupboards and pick up carefully placed items from the floor. Now that would be truly patient focused!
