Near misses: Times it could have gone so much worse

Close calls. Near misses. We've all had them.

Sometimes there's a lesson to be learned, and other times the only thing we can take away is gratitude that luck was on our side that day. We asked several Common Tread team members and contributors to share some of their most dramatic and bizarre near misses that could have been a lot worse.

CT writer Dustin Wheelen: Too much ego, too few turn signals

Ego can be a siren song. That's especially true when motorcycles are involved.

I was on my Husqvarna 701 Supermoto. He was riding an Aprilia RSV4. I was winding through a canyon road. The stranger on the Aprilia wheelied past me on the straight. Game. On.

Inflated egos are commonly attributed to superbike riders (particularly when their skills don't match the bike's specs). In that moment, my ego dwarfed that of a C-group Panigale owner. I was livid. No, I was incensed. The proverbial bear had been poked. I ride this pass every day! Doesn't he realize this tight, narrow canyon suits my single, not his V4? If he didn't, he does now. I'm all over his rear wheel. I am his shadow. He's overbraking for corners. He's missing apexes. He's slow to the gas. At the next straight, I'm going to overtake him. That'll put him in his place. That'll show him. Wait, is he slowing? Where's his brake light? Where are his blinkers? Are those race plastics?! Stop!

I drop anchor. I'm coming in hot. I have to avoid him (in less time than it takes to say "evasive maneuver"). I veer to the right. But he does, too. There's contact. Plastic on plastic. I go skidding into roadside gravel, but keep it upright. He pulls off, feebly. We exchange looks and a deep exhale.

"You OK?" I check in.

His heavy head nod suffices.

"Sorry," I admit, "I didn't know you were turning."

"No, it's not your fault," he replies, gesturing to his non-existent blinker.

While collecting our wits, we exchange additional apologies. Ego has no place in such situations. If only I had blocked out its tantalizing tune from the beginning. After re-steeling our nerves, we both go our separate ways — at much slower paces and with much less ego.

REVER guru Kyle Nagel: Nearly running over a podcast host

I’ll never forget the time I nearly ran over my colleague Spurgeon Dunbar in the Black Hills of South Dakota. It was the second year of Get On! ADV Fest and we were scouting routes for the event. Spurg campaigned to include a route that was a part of the inaugural event. I initially resisted including the route due to the length — I usually try to keep event routes under 100 miles — but Spurg wore me down.

Our Chief Retail Officer Stevan Popovich, Spurg, and I set out to scout the route and, to my surprise, it was every bit as good as Spurg had claimed. Stevan was absolutely crushing it as the trail lead, too. We were grooving in a tight formation, just like Top Gun: Maverick. As we came around an off-cambered, slightly elevated lefthand corner with gravel, Stevan tapped his brake and set off the domino effect. Spurg grabbed the front brake, removing all traction from his front tire. I saw it in slow motion; bike sliding, podcast host hitting the ground in my path, rolling and coming to rest in his shame as the dust settled. I was right behind him, but luckily I rolled to the right and came to a controlled stop. I had narrowly missed him, but my GoPro captured everything. The only casualties were a Fasthouse jersey, the new finish on the bespoke blue engine guard, and some dust on Spurg’s ego. But hey, it’s the kind of mistake that can happen to any rider. I'm just glad I didn't run over him.

Podcast "Producer Chase" Kubasiak: The classic, left-turning minivan

I’d been a licensed driver for 14 years before my first motorcycle ride, and I still remember realizing how many things I’d grown accustomed to on the road that were suddenly a much bigger threat to me: Covert, slippery manhole covers. Parked car doors, ready to open at any second. And, of course, the inattentive motorist… which brings me to the first close call I ever had.

The streets of downtown Chicago are a gigantic grid of stoplights, and I couldn’t think of a better urban assault motorcycle that my 2014 Triumph Street Triple. Its acceleration and braking made me just about the quickest thing on the street but it was also small enough to go unnoticed. My light turned green and the Striple quickly put me on approach to the next intersection, but then a green minivan coming in the opposite direction made a left turn in front of me. I remember the driver’s face: blissfully unaware that a 30-year-old man suddenly became more religious while bracing for the experience of detailing the rear passenger side of her Dodge. I grabbed the clutch, pulled both brakes, clenched like hell... and missed by inches! I’m sure she went about her life never knowing the impact she almost caused and the impact she did make on a new motorcyclist, but I’ll never forget my first.

CT editor Lance Oliver: Exploding building materials on the 210

When motorcycle media types start telling wild stories from new model press launch events, the setting is more often the hotel bar at the end of the day, not the ride itself. But one of the most dramatic near misses I've experienced occurred on a press ride for the Suzuki GSX-S1000GT+ three years ago.

Toward the end of a two-day ride, our group of seven was riding back into the Los Angeles area and had just gotten on I-210, moving at SoCal freeway speeds in the left lane. A sheet of pressed wood that was obviously not secured properly caught the wind and flew out of a truck that was in the far right lane. I could hardly believe what I was seeing as the eight-foot sheet soared high in the air across three lanes of traffic and landed in the middle of our group. The board hit the asphalt on its edge just as the front tire of the motorcycle in front of me slammed into it. The board literally exploded into thousands of splinters, like some choreographed movie stunt.

Luckily, the tire wasn't punctured, the rider stayed upright, and those of us behind him rode through the debris field without incident. Had the board come down a split second later, it would have fallen on top of the rider, likely causing him to crash, and maybe those of us following, as well. Our group pulled over at the next exit and found half a dozen splinters spiked into the radiator, which was now dripping liquid. The day was done for that Suzuki, but it could have been done for several of us.

CT contributor Jerry Smith: More building materials on freeways

Bowling along on my Honda ST1100 in the fast lane in heavy traffic on I-5 by the Tacoma Dome in Washington, I looked in my mirror and saw some hammerhead in a brodozer stuck to my taillight. Rather than become a grilleburger, I did a shoulder check of the number two lane and started my move. When I looked back ahead, a four-by-four wooden post suddenly emerged from under the car ahead of me. The post was lying directly across my path, but was just short enough to fit between the wheels of the car, which didn't hit it.

With no time — or room — for evasive maneuvers I straightened the bike, stood on the footpegs, and braced for impact. You’ve heard the phrase “when pigs fly”? Mine did. I hit the post square and both wheels left the pavement as the 700-pound ST soared like the porker it was. The bike came down, still going 70 mph, with a bone-shaking thud, the front wheel vibrating so hard it was all I could do to hang on to the hand grips. Somehow — the memory has blissfully faded — I wrestled the bike to the shoulder. The front rim was bent but not enough to break the bead and lose air pressure.

As it happened, I’d been on my way to the home of a fellow ST1100 rider. He set me up with a spare wheel and a few days later I rode home without incident. On back roads. Nice, quiet, lightly traveled back roads.

Lance Oliver bonus entry: Oh deer

Considering that I've ridden more miles in Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia (number one in the nation for deer strikes!) than any other states and considering that all three have huge deer populations, I feel lucky I've never hit one on a motorcycle. Though technically, I have.

For years I lived in central Ohio and my parents lived 100 miles away in my hometown along the Ohio River in West Virginia. I made that trip countless times and for variety I took every possible combination of roads to get there. For those of you thinking of western Ohio's boring cornfields, southeastern Ohio's Appalachian foothills actually serve up some great riding, and one time I was on one of those curving rural two-lanes on my 2006 Triumph Daytona 675 and came around a corner to see two young deer looking at me, one blocking each lane.

If you know deer, you know how hard it is to predict which way they'll go. I was hard on the brakes, the deer's hooves were scrabbling for traction on the asphalt, and they eventually went opposite directions. But not in time, and I felt the bump as my left fairing hit one in the haunches.

The deer scampered off, apparently uninjured, as I pulled over, cursing to myself and expecting to find expensive broken plastic. To my amazement, nothing was cracked or shattered. I stood there several minutes, examining the fairing multiple times because I couldn't believe I (and the deer) got off totally free. Another two feet to the left would have been a different story.

What's your near miss?

Image Gallery