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5,449 Posts
One year ago today my life changed. In 2006 at 2:41 in the afternoon, on Olive Ave in Burbank California a speeding Hyundai Santa Fe came up from behind and sideswiped me, and sent my City-X and I into a high curb, that ended my riding career and almost my life. I sustained over 15 broken bones, the most important one being my T-12 thoracic vertebrae that burst and severed my spinal cord, leaving me paralyzed from the waist down for life.
I have a lot to be thankful for, my wife, mom and daughter who stood by me through this whole test of faith, my friends who visited me through those horrible first six months in the hospital, my boss at work who kept me on the payroll through the whole ordeal. And you Morons out there in virtual motorcycle land where the roads are always twisty and free of traffic. You guys sustained me in some of my darkest moments, when I didn't want to live. When I thought it was over, reading your missives off my laptop kept my spirits up, and let me see that I had to survive, to keep on going if I ever wanted to ride again, albeit vicariously.
I could go on about fear, and pain, the realization that nothing will be the same as it was, but I'm going to forgo that b.s. and just say thank you.
And one last thing: Be careful out there, it can all change in an instant. You don't want to end up like me. Wear all the armor you can get on your body.
Merry Xmas, Kwanzaa, Festivus or whatever you believe in.
Cheers,
Matthew Steven Cuddy
In a chair, somewhere in Burbank
I have a lot to be thankful for, my wife, mom and daughter who stood by me through this whole test of faith, my friends who visited me through those horrible first six months in the hospital, my boss at work who kept me on the payroll through the whole ordeal. And you Morons out there in virtual motorcycle land where the roads are always twisty and free of traffic. You guys sustained me in some of my darkest moments, when I didn't want to live. When I thought it was over, reading your missives off my laptop kept my spirits up, and let me see that I had to survive, to keep on going if I ever wanted to ride again, albeit vicariously.
I could go on about fear, and pain, the realization that nothing will be the same as it was, but I'm going to forgo that b.s. and just say thank you.
And one last thing: Be careful out there, it can all change in an instant. You don't want to end up like me. Wear all the armor you can get on your body.
Merry Xmas, Kwanzaa, Festivus or whatever you believe in.
Cheers,
Matthew Steven Cuddy
In a chair, somewhere in Burbank
