To end the busy 2005 summer, a handful of my FMX counterparts and I
participated in a short, three-stop tour of Mexico. We all met in
Laredo, Texas, loaded onto a bus, and
crossed the border for a trip that went through Monterrey, Queretaro,
and Guadalajara. None of us really knew what to expect and we were
unprepared for the language and cultural barrier. The promoters'
lack of a concrete agenda left us anxious. This was just before wifi and social media
were everywhere, so we were isolated and bored in our hotel rooms.
When we weren't riding we were like fish out of water, spending much
of our time at the hotel bars or taking $2 cabs to Walmart because
those were the only two places that felt familiar to us. Few of us
spoke Spanish, but somehow we were able to make a few friends among
the locals and found a couple of things to do
that kept us occupied while not riding in the events. Still, the
event organizers annoyed us and we were all excited to get out of
there. That feeling was evident in a blog that I wrote one afternoon:
The more I travel, the less I feel like I have a home. And by home, I don't just mean a place where I lay my head to rest at night, check my email, and wash my dishes. By home, I mean a place where I feel secure, a place where I will always travel back to regardless of how many miles away it is, how high the gas prices are, or how cool a riding spot might be.
I felt that I had better things to do back in Kansas City. 
I
had snapped the frame on my KX250 motocross bike in half just days
before leaving for Laredo (right). Fortunately my friend and tour counterpart
Jason Rowe
had a spare RM250 that he brought along for me to ride but I was
stressed out about getting my bike fixed. I knew that the tour was
short and I would be home soon, but I still couldn't avoid the
thoughts in the back of my head that I would also need to pick up the
pace on Chuck's video (for a potential December release), and start
planning for the 2006 IFMA tour which I hoped would include taking
backflips to dirt on my full-sized, 250cc motocross bike.
Despite my anxiety, not everything about the Mexico trip was
terrible. I sold out of DVDs the first night there, and we riders got
mobbed when the packed crowd stormed the autograph line.
Our
new friend JJ surprised us by trying and landing a backflip to dirt
at one of the shows. The local press was obsessed with our tour, and
we soaked up the attention and enjoyed our pseudo-celebrity status.
Jason was busy hustling; he had lined up an event near his hometown
of Chicago and he invited me to ride in it with him. It would be a
fun, laid back show and a good excuse to travel to Chicago and hang
out for a few days.
Once finishing up in Mexico, Jason and I planned to follow each other back to KC before heading to Illinois. There we would get a few things done before the show that following weekend. I was looking forward to repairing my bike in my own garage, and we made plans to hang out for a few days with my KC friends. Jason was also looking forward to hanging out, and my local friends always enjoyed it when he was around as we all shared a taste for dirt bikes, evenings on the town, and punk rock.
After
completing the shows on our Mexico tour the entire crew got up on
the morning of September 12 to cross the border back into Laredo and
start our journey home. After getting through customs, we went to a
warehouse where our vehicles had been stored. We unloaded our bikes
and gear, transferred it to our trucks and vans, and said our
goodbyes. Jason headed to western Oklahoma to drop off our colleague
Kyle Lovelace, and I drove back with a couple other riders to Chuck's
compound. I had plans to load all my things before heading north to
meet Jason. I knew that I wouldn't be back in Texas for at least several
weeks so I wanted to take of my stuff including all my video gear and
editing computer/monitors. Early that next morning, Jason and I would
rendezvous somewhere on I-35 and continue on to my house in Kansas
City. .
Memories from my trip home do not come naturally to me if at all. I remember a few bits of crossing the border, going through customs, and transferring the bikes/gear from the tour trailer our vehicles, but I have absolutely no memory of the six-hour drive from Laredo to Chuck's house. While on a recent work trip, I spoke to fellow rider Tim Boca (who Greg Hartman an I were riding with that afternoon) for the first time in years. He told me a story about getting pulled over by the border patrol while headed back to Chuck's, and having his van searched. I had no memory of this moment at all. However, I do know that I must have gotten to Chuck's house in Cleveland, TX sometime that evening and had dinner before I packed and loaded my things. I must have finally got on the road around midnight. My memories from that day are abstract at best and what remains feels like a dream that I know I had but can't recall anything specific from. And what I think I remember I am not sure if I actually remember it or if I just know that those things had to have happened, so I am unconsciously fabricating the memory in my head. The last thing I think I recall doing that evening is getting onto I-45 from highway 105 in Conroe, Texas. I have this vision of accelerating up onto the interstate and looking up at my rear view mirror to check that my bike was securely strapped in. At least I think I have that vision. After that my mental narrative would go completely blank for about two months.
September 13
did not have cruise control and that morning I struggled to hold a
steady pace. It got so bad at times that we would occasionally lose
sight of one another, but after a quick phone call one of us would
slow down so that the other could catch back up. That was, until
about 10:30am:Jason Rowe, who was traveling in front of you in his van, noticed that you weren't behind him and pulled off to wait for you. After several minutes he decided to turn back and look for you. He knew something was must have happened to you because you weren't answering your phone. On his way back to you he saw a highway patrol car and then an ambulance.
There was one eye witness, an elderly man who said you passed him in the left-hand lane then as you cut back over to the right hand lane you just kept going off the right shoulder, traveled about 378 feet along the highway on a slight incline. A very large cottonwood tree stopped your truck some hundred feet away from I-35.
My late father kept a journal to document my crash and the ensuing hospital stay. He continues below:
The emergency crews had to cut off the top of your truck to extricate you, which took about 25 minutes. You were then life-flighted to Via Christi Regional Medical Center - St. Francis Campus hospital in Wichita. You suffered severe head trauma from the head injuries with staples being used to close one large gash on the right top. An attending nurse, Angela said you had road rash on your left forearm with broken glass embedded in it. Also your left shoulder blade is broken and you will have more scars on your left knee as the skin there was peeled back and stitches were necessary. But hey, you look good, even with all those tubes sticking out of your mouth and wearing a neck brace.
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His attention to detail is evident in his writings, and as I read the
last line I can imagine the tone of his voice and his frustration
with me is evident:
Your injuries caused bleeding in two main areas of your brain and a second CAT scan showed severe twisting of your neck and brain stem with pin-point bleeding in it. There is some swelling of your brain and a probe was inserted through your skull on the top into your brain to monitor this. It is Thursday afternoon and you still haven't regained consciousness. You are on a ventilator and a feeding tube was inserted through your mouth late Wed. night. We have been told all along that your heart rate, blood pressure, and breathing are good and holding steady.
We were warned to prepare for a possible long haul. You taught us an important lesson - don't drive while sleepy. Hopefully you learned this lesson too.
My truck was totalled, my bike in a tree, and my
computers/monitors/video gear destroyed. With a handful of new broken
bones, a damaged MCL and rotator cuff, and bleeding in three spots on
my brain, I remained in a vegetative state for six weeks. I was in a coma.
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After I gradually regained consciousness in late October, I spent another five weeks in the hospital rehab facility. I would slowly learn to walk and talk again, but my ability to form new memories would not fully function for many more months. I finally made it back to Kansas City in late November and while I was out of the woods, I would spend 9 more months doing rehab in a variety of outpatient clinics.
