Honda CBR 900RR Fireblade am 20. April 1996

April 23, 1996, 8:45, Lensahn: The accident

It was such awesome weather. Actually, it shouldn’t be that warm. That’s the reason why I didn’t put on the leathers on that Tuesday, because according to the weather forecast I should go by car. An Audi 80, type B4, about 5 years old. I also had the empty „money bomb“ from the company with me, and in the evening I should have taken part in a training in the company. Furthermore, I should have brought a whole bunch of electrical installation material for Mirko. A bunch of switch boxes, socket outlets, changeover switches, serial switches and all that shit. On top of that I’d already got over 350 marks. But when I left the house, all reason was gone. The sun was shining, it was just before 20 °C (68 °F) and I’ll not to go by car, but rather by the motorbike. The backpack was hopefully big enough for Mirko’s electrical parts. Besides that I could already take a part with me in the lunch break. Because the distance from Oldenburg could be done by bike in less than 10 minutes. But not anymore today.

The bike was a brand new Fireblade. A CBR 900RR, SC 33. This is what it was supposed to look like:


Honda Fireblade 1995/96

But when I opened the box at my motorcycle dealer, JRP Racing, Oldenburg, there was another Fireblade in it, one so much more horny. It looked so horny that I almost cum. It was neon yellow/purple/white/black.

On Saturday, April 20th I got it, on April 22nd I could register it, there was still a registration office in Oldenburg/Holstein. So on April 23rd 1996 in the morning at half past eight my horny Fireblade had not yet 500 km on the clock. So I just put on the leather jacket and the cross gloves and cross boots, rucksack on my back and gas.

Everything what comes now, I know unfortunately only from stories, reports and files. My memories go up to the time when I turn off a side road onto the L57. After that there is nothing more. Real memories are only from the 2nd of May, 1996, by chance the common birthday of my parents, who, yes really, both had their birthdays on the same day.
I think the reports will be accurate because a lot of them are from the police files.

So I drove off in the direction of Oldenburg to the company I had changed to from Eutin at the beginning of ’96. Normally it didn’t take me 9 minutes to get there, unless I had to break in a new bike carefully or the Bull… uh, had the police on my back. Therefore I had to turn left in Lensahn at the „big crossing“ (the biggest and only crossing with traffic lights in Lensahn ;-)). In front of me there were two VW Golf, whose drivers were carrying their cars towards the next intersection at a distance of about 500 m (547 yards). That means that they did not exceed the allowed 50 km/h (31 mph). That was the crossing Oldenburger Str./Sundstraße at that time, where many others and unfortunately also I had to pass. Now there is a roundabout and a development area.
At the height of the junction to Sundstraße a truck came towards me, which let the two creeping Golfs pass and then turned left. Stupid for me was only that the driver of the truck had overlooked me, even though I was driving the VWs behind them. According to a testimony I tried to avoid a collision with the truck loaded with beer in an adventurous stunt. I did not succeed. A pity. Fireblade busted, I busted. The fucking driver of the fucking beer car had probably already tasted his fucking load, because his blood alcohol concentration was almost two per mille. He handed in his driver’s license on the spot, but it was no use to me either. At that time I was already on the way to Kiel to the university hospital, unfortunately not with the Fireblade, but in the helicopter. Unfortunately I didn’t notice anything about the flight. My horny Fireblade was dying several meters further on the field where the new building area was later built.

A driver and co-driver of a VW-bus of the Schleswag (doesn’t exist any more) which drove behind the beer truck, already sensed the impact coming. An evasion should have been impossible for me. I only found out about this 20 years later, when I read through all the files. I couldn’t have been too fast either, because I had to rein in the Fireblade behind the two Golf carriers. If they hadn’t been there, or a bit faster, I would have been faster too, and ……. if it wasn’t for the word „if“, the dog wouldn’t have shit and wouldn’t have got the rabbit after all. It is futile to philosophize about it now. The VW Bus passengers fortunately took off my helmet professionally, pulled me over on my side and then left me lying there. They behaved exactly right. And nobody cared about my dying Fireblade. It was later brought by the Estermann company to the JRP workshop in Oldenburg, where it stood for weeks, alone and in the dark in an adjoining room of the workshop, until I came out of the clinic months later and was driven to Oldenburg.

So on May 2, 1996 the doctors of the intensive care unit of the University of Kiel made the second attempt to get me out of the coma. I was further intubated. At the first attempt I was said to have made quite a riot. In spite of many broken bones, cervical vertebrae and injured organs (the cervical vertebrae were already screwed together again) I did not care about the staff or myself. So I decided to let me sleep a few days longer to get some rest.With the second attempt, on 2. May, the waking up should have run off probably better. I didn’t feel like rioting anymore and behaved decently.Anyway, I recognized my parents and although I just came out of the coma. I was told the date and I tried to congratulate my parents with the tube in my throat. Unfortunately I had no presents, but I think they didn’t hold it against me. They were glad that in my condition I even thought of it. At first it did not look so good for me. In the first four days nobody knew whether I would even wake up again, and if so, how. I could have died well in that time. It’s just good that I wouldn’t have noticed anything. They asked me if I knew my name. Maybe I would have just given drooling animal noises. For the second time now I didn’t feel like going. Such a fucking accident will not get me down. So I took the arduous path on me. I’m still struggling with the consequences of this accident, more about that later.
So after I was back on board on May 2nd, I immediately felt the urge to get up, look for the Fireblade and drive off again. But some people had something against that plan.For the first 10 days I was not aware of how much my body was scrapping. I am said to have used the external fixator above my right leg up to my foot to cause some material damage. When the doctors and nurses were fed up and feared for the results of their operations and the equipment of the intensive care bed, my right leg was unceremoniously chained to the bed until I had credibly promised not to disassemble the bed again. I do not remember exactly how many times I broke that promise. Within the three weeks in the intensive care unit I was given an estimated and felt 10 litres (2,64US gal lqd) of morphine sulphate solution for the fucking pain. I hardly had any pain during the three weeks. As time went by my mind became a little clearer and I was actually able to negotiate the application of the blood oxygen clamp on my left index finger.

One night it was enough for me. Of course I knew about the accident, I was roughly told about the injuries I had. In my condition at that time, this did not sound like something that I had to lie there for any longer. So sometime during the night I removed the heart catheter, which was used to administer a whole bunch of medication, rather improperly. That means, I pulled on some kind of tube, wanted to quickly remove my right leg from the bed frame, look for my leathers, boots and helmet and then off I went. It couldn’t have been that far from Kiel, those 65 km (40 miles), pa! The only stupid thing was that there had to be some kind of alarm system on this hose, because it suddenly became terribly loud and suddenly it was swarming with people who, I thought, were talking loudly and in a confused way. I did not understand anything. I just saw that suddenly there was a lot of blood. My bed was soaked in blood. My blood. I leaked. It came out of me somewhere. Fuck, dude, I’m not gonna run away.

… to be continued

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