Harvest Moon Marks Return Of Motorcycle Hunting Season

September 12, 2014

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Usually we don’t bring this up for another month or so, until the rutting begins, but the Harvest Moon is waning and the motorcycle hunting season appears to be off to an early start. At least that’s what the deer call it.

Last Saturday near Archer, Iowa Michael Otten of Hurley, South Dakota struck a deer on county road B40, dropped his bike, slid down the road and earned a free ambulance ride to Baum Harmon Mercy Hospital in Primghar, Iowa. His bike sustained an estimated $3,500 in damages.

Later that night, near Raymond, Washington, Leland Tarver and his passenger Karen Spurgeon tried to avoid a deer that jumped into the road. They crossed the centerline and crashed down an embankment. Both were hospitalized.

The next morning about seven local time near Abercrombie, North Dakota, Kevin Bernier tried to avoid a deer, lost control of his motorcycle and crashed. He took an ambulance to a hospital in Fargo.

More Bad News

About noon last Sunday, Timothy Dobson tried to avoid a deer on Highway 97 in Klamath County, Oregon. He swerved left, hit the deer near the centerline, dropped the bike and slid into the weeds where the bike rolled at least twice. Dobson was airlifted to the St. Charles Medical Center in Bend where his condition is listed as fair.

Two hours later near Poygan in Northern Wisconsin, a motorcycle carrying two people hit a deer. The rider survived. The passenger was pronounced dead at the scene.

Early Sunday evening, Micah Russell of Medford, Oregon hit a fawn on Highway 42 and crashed. Police accuse him of drinking. He was treated for serious injuries at Mercy Medical Center in Roseburg.

Two days ago on Route 395 in California, south of Carson City, Moises Cornejo hit a deer that leapt into the road. He dropped the bike and was seriously injured.

Our Annual Message

Two percent of automobile-deer collisions result in human injuries. Seventy-five percent of motorcycle-deer collisions result in injuries. Ten thousand people are hurt in deer collisions annually.

The peak months for deer collisions are October and November, as the days grow short, during rutting season, during what is hunting season in most of the country, around the time the wild berries have all fermented. Picture drunken, horny deer panicked by hunters in the gloaming. Half of all deer collisions happen in Pennsylvania, Michigan, Illinois, Ohio, Georgia, Virginia, Minnesota, Texas, Indiana and South Carolina.

Nag, Nag, Nag

Don’t bother to honk. Deer whistles and loud pipes won’t protect you. Deer have evolved to avoid wolves, not motorcycles.

Deer react when you invade their fight or flight space which encompasses a radius of about 60 feet. When deer react, they usually jump straight ahead then zig and zag. Don’t try to predict what the deer will do. Forget what they told you at the advanced rider training course. Never swerve. Slow down in deer country. Look for deer in the tree line. Don’t try to beat a deer to a spot. At 65 miles per hour you are going 100 feet per second so if you are lucky you will have about a half second to react. Your best chance of survival is to hit both brakes hard and go straight. If you have the time and the presence of mind to down shift do that, too. If you are very good aim for the ribs. Rib bones are more flexible than hip bones and will absorb the impact better than the hips.

As always, remember that if you do hit a deer you get to eat it. Whether you have a hunting license or not it is a legal kill. The meat, the antlers and the skin are yours.

Be careful. Practice braking. If the worst happens enjoy your venison. Stay alive so you can come back next year and read a slightly different version of this story then.


29 Responses to “Harvest Moon Marks Return Of Motorcycle Hunting Season”

  1. sherides Says:


    Thanks for the annual reminder.

    Ride Safe

  2. Paladin Says:

    “As always, remember that if you do hit a deer you get to eat it. Whether you have a hunting license or not it is a legal kill. The meat, the antlers and the skin are yours.”

    Hey! Set up a couple of beater cars as drones, then start cruising for dinner!

    Long May You Ride (to those that deserve to),


  3. Woodstock Says:

    One of our prospects hit one last month. He survived, his bike and the deer didn’t. His road name is now Buck.

  4. stroker Says:

    Here in Californy, we’re experiencing a bad drought. This means bambi is coming down nightly to drink out of the remaining rivers creeks etc. Best to go slow this time of year.

    A little larger than bambi ….here’s a link to a moose story with a happy ending (but not for the moose!)


  5. Ol'LadyRider Says:

    Having had a near miss with two does a couple years back, I always appreciate this annual reminder. I know very well that such luck probably won’t be had twice!

  6. Sketcham Says:

    I am in Illinois in the country and hate deer. They are everywhere. Get as many tags as you can and kill them all. God put them on earth to be made into jerky and chilli.

  7. chromedome Says:

    Me and a brother were comin down southside road in clarksville couple years ago bout midnight. He was to my left I couldn’t really see shit, I turned to look at him just in time to see him plow right through a deer or small dog or someshit we didnt look or go back just kept rollin it shook his handlebars somethin crazy and after he realized wtf happened he yelled and turned it wide open. Icouldnt keep up for shit. When we got to the closet gas station I pulled up next to him he looked at me with most wide eyed crazy fuckin look ever didnt say shit just starred at me . He clenched his grips so hard the handlebars were shakin and I swear I could hear his heart pounding. It took him a few hours and a couple bottles of southern comfort before he finally would even talk. And even then the only thing he said to me before he passed out was “you lucky motherfucker”


  8. Shovelhead Says:

    Up here in Maine, most of our riding is back roads, so we’re always looking out for critters jumping out onto the road. But Fall is the most dangerous, especially during hunting season. Deer running out across the road all over the place. And then we have the Moose, biggest dumbest looking animal I’ve ever seen, hitting one of them would be like smashing into a stone wall. The worst thing about riding up here….you can’t see it coming, It’s all trees right up to the road, they just come out of no where. I still love it here and ride every day until it snows, then every other day!
    Wonder what it’s like to ride for hours on a long slow winding road going through the plains where you can see a hundred miles in any direction….someday!

  9. Cap'n Bill Says:

    Yep, west tn. is usually pretty deer populated too. My brother, who hasn’t ridden in about 30 yrs., just bought a Yamaha vstar 1100. He’s aware of the little(?) bastards. I told him that we’re not 25 any more and reaction time is slower, etc., etc.
    Everyone WATCH OUT!



  10. CN Says:

    True story: I’ve been known to say the following prayer, usually after seeing one or more of these tasty motherfuckers in or near the road here in SC: “Lord, keep your deer in the woods & my bike on the road”. So far it’s worked unless I just jinxed myself and it’s now my day to hit one of these suicidal no count retarded motherfuckers. Hunters should get a bounty from the State taken right out of the Law Enforcement Budget to murder these big dumb bastards as well as possims, racoons, armadillo, basically anything that can enter the road that’s on a mision to kill me or those I ride with. Here in SC the hunting season on these white tail motherfuckers is October through January not two fucking weeks like up in NY. And where I live you don’t need a tree stand, just a shot gun next to the kitchen sink window cause’ I see these stupid retarded tasty bastards in my back yard almost every fucking day. There’s deer processing places about every two miles on Rt. 301 in XXXXX County where people sell moonshine and “other stuff” to just about anybody as long as they seen em'”round” here for a while cause everybody knows everybody else and if you gotta’ sister, wife of finace’, she’s fucking one of these alleged Christians while you’re out of town or at work anyway so why not sell you some mercy crank with your packaged up deer that your disloyal Wife etc will turn her shit don’t stink nose up at unless you sneak it into some meat sause for pasta or something and don’t tell the cunt til’ after she eats it and even then she’s gonna’cop a major attitude, you’ll almost always get into a pissing contest then you’ll, I’ll, storm out of the house jump on the scoot and ride out like that night rider dude in the movies cause riding angry is just about as smart as I can get when the bitch starts her fucking only good for one thing which she never fucking does since I married the cunt mouth, bitch! Truth be told though, I don’t hunt. Getting up before the sunrise and quietly making my way to a tree stand and sitting silently with a shotgun waiting for one of these big dumb retarded suicidal bastards bent on killing me to get into range then if I hit it having to climb down and follow the blood trail for miles then field dressing it then dragging the bastard out of the woods when I could be back in bed sleeping off a perfectly good hang over, not my thing man.

    So to those of you who go to the trouble to thin out the herd here’s to you (raises can of beverage, rolled joint, bong, whatever else I’m not supposed to ride after doing). Kill em’ all! Like I said, you should get some tax money for ridding us of these no count big dumb motherfuckers bent on suicide like a terrosist sand nigger bomber. Rant over.

  11. Sieg Says:

    R.I.P. Kelly, GBNF
    2.01.44 / 3.12.88

    Kelly was good people, and a good friend. Still wear a jacket I got from him, and run the bags he fixed-up for me, got a lot of other things he made for me, but most of all, got a lot of good memories of partying with him.

    From the Chicago Tribune

    Rivals Call A Truce For The Man Who Outfitted Their Adventures

    December 16, 1988|By Steve Johnson.

    The phalanx of some 75 Harley-Davidsons led the hearse slowly through Richmond, Ill., the tiny town where Dennis Kelly had his business, and over the Wisconsin border into Genoa City, where Kelly lived, where he died and where he was laid to rest.

    It was cold that December Wednesday-too cold, really, to ride a motorcycle-but many of the bikers had turned their machines out of winter storage and spent as long as two days tuning them to be able to properly pay their respects for a fallen brother.

    At graveside, as Rev. Glenn Mensing of the Richmond Community Church led a communal prayer, the motorcyclists stood somberly, a portrait of mourning in full-leather regalia. Even Kelly`s widow, Cleo, wore leather: a stylish skirt- and-jacket ensemble. It wasn`t standard funeral dress, but it was black, and it was testimony to the man as fitting as wearing a Perry Ellis suit to the New York clothing designer`s last rites.

    Kelly, who was 44, made his living, his reputation and many of his friends as a leather elf, a skilled craftsman in one of the most revered of the motorcycle arts. To hear area bikers tell it, he was the premiere practitioner of his trade in the Midwest, a man who used only brass zippers on his jackets, who backed his seams and zippers with a lifetime guarantee and who wasn`t opposed to cutting a guy a deal. Kelly`s Leather Works is the name of the business, and from the way people talk about it the title stands as an assertion, too.

    Diesel, a member of the Chicago Outlaws motorcycle club, said Outlaws from as far as Jacksonville, Fla., have driven to Richmond, in McHenry County, just to buy a jacket from Kelly. “(The shop) can supply every biker`s individual taste,“ Diesel said.

    Even those who dressed more conservatively for the funeral found a way to pay tribute to Kelly`s handiwork. “I`m a leather person,“ said Debbie of Spring Grove. “I wouldn`t honor that today, but I brought my purse because Kelly made it.“

    An estimated 1,000 people, many of them bikers he had befriended in 10 years of business, had passed by Kelly`s open coffin during the two-day wake at the Haase Funeral Home in Genoa City. Flowers are a fading funeral tradition, said Bruce Haase, but more than 60 floral pieces were sent, including offerings from most every motorcycle club in the Chicago area.

    Members of rival clubs normally too proud even to sneer at one another became almost chummy for this funeral. Among the clubs that made their presence felt, said Haase, were the Outlaws, the Sojourners, Hell`s Henchmen, the Booze Runners, the Blue Knights and the Death Marauders.

    Some 350 people attended the actual service, about 200 of them bikers, counting those who arrived in cars. “It`s one of the biggest funerals we`ve had in quite a while,“ Haase said.

    A ribbon on one of the wreaths at graveside said, “Rest in Peace-Chicago Outlaws“-a gesture from the club that Diesel said is the largest in the country. Another said, simply, “My Buddy.“

    Before the burial vault was sealed, the mourners placed on Kelly`s oak casket a red carnation, an imitation rose, a Harley-Davidson pin and a black Harley bandana, printed on four sides with the words, “An American Legend.“

    Dennis Kelly`s last ride, on County Road H just north of Genoa City, was cut short by two wayward deer.

    He swerved to avoid the first; the second he struck, and the impact threw his motorcycle off balance. Fighting to regain control, he finally fell, suffering severe head injuries.

    The first person on the scene got out of her car and draped a brand-new baby blanket over Kelly`s body, offering its small-scale warmth as a shield against the Friday morning cold. An ambulance took Kelly to a local hospital, and from there he was flown to Milwaukee County Medical Complex. He died 16 hours after the crash.

    Kelly, like actor Gary Busey, who was seriously injured in a Los Angeles- area motorcycle accident the same weekend, was not wearing a helmet. While it is impossible to say that a helmet would have saved him, “it certainly would have been a help,“ said Walworth County (Wis.) Coroner John T. Griebel. Head injuries were “basically all the injuries he had.“

    As “Kelly“ was fighting death-his mother was one of the few he would let call him Dennis-the word was going out.

    “We have networks that newspapers should know about,“ said New York Tom, president of the Death Marauders, a Lake County club. “When one of us knows, all of us know in five minutes.“

    One of our own is in trouble, went the message from club to club-one of our own, even though Kelly didn`t belong to a club and even though he drove a German-made BMW bike, not the sacred Harley. “He wanted to be a little bit different,“ his wife said.

    “He never really considered himself a biker, but he always liked to have a nice ride,“ said Cleo. “And he always saw the best in people.“

    “Kelly wasn`t in a club,“ said Diesel, “but he took care of all the clubs in the area, gave `em discounts. You could deal with the guy. It wasn`t like going to the auto-parts store, if you know what I`m saying.“

    “There`s different clubs that don`t normally have much to do with each other, but all of `em knew Kelly,“ said Ted from Lake Bluff. “That`s why you see so many different clubs around here,“ he said, gesturing around the bar. For area clubs, explained Jack Rada, Kelly`s was “like the hub of the wheel.“

    Before he and his brother Alan opened the leather shop in 1978, Kelly had been driving a bread-delivery route in Fox Lake. It was tough going for the brothers at first-they were teaching themselves the trade-and Alan soon left the business.

    Things started to pick up for the leather shop, said Cleo, after an early 1980s stop in a roadhouse. Kelly and the manager got to talking, and the manager said if Kelly would bring some business cards by, he`d be happy to pass them out.

    It got easier after that, she said, with the combination of improved craftsmanship, summer tourists and the steady and growing motorcycle-club trade. Within the last year, the store came out with a retail and wholesale catalogue, and Kelly had just recently put in a successful bid for a larger building, an old church, to move the business into.

    He took considerable delight in his success, too, sitting out on the front-porch chairs, teasing the older tourists who`d stop in. “Kelly would have so much fun with some of these little old ladies,“ said Cleo. “There`d be a bike out there with that tour bus, and he`d go, `No! You didn`t ride up here in that?` He had everybody laughing.“
    “He used to say,“ said Tom Crossey, a leather-goods sales representative who worked closely with Kelly, “ `Where else can you see a drunken biker and a millionaire from Skokie bumping elbows, trying to throw money at me?` “

    “And a nun,“ added Cleo, “standing there to take it all in.“
    Pretty much since Sammy`s birth, Kelly had left the day-to-day business operations to Cleo`s sister Gwen Butler. He wanted to watch his son grow up.

    Said Diesel: “I don`t know anybody that didn`t get along with him. If you had a problem with the guy, you had to have a problem. We don`t get along with very many people ourselves, but he was well liked by all of our guys.“

    Drago, who lives in Lake County, got the phone call the day the accident happened. “It was, I mean, hard to believe,“ he said.
    “Kelly was the kind of guy,“ said Debbie, “that when we heard about his death, we were all shocked. Kelly`s the one we all thought would live forever.“

    Kelly died on Dec. 3, less than a month shy of the year-end milestones that had become such an important part of his life.
    He and Cleo would have celebrated their seventh wedding anniversary on Christmas Day; his son, Sammy, his only child with Cleo, turns 2 the day after that; and Kelly would have turned 45 on Jan. 2. He left a recently purchased and lovingly restored Victorian home, a newfound faith in God and more friends than most men make.

    “`It`s kind of ironic,“ said Haase. “Here`s a guy that spends most of his life making leather out of animal hides, and the deer gets him.“

    “At least it was a deer and not a car,“ said John DuBois, who rode one of the lead bikes in the funeral procession, flying an American flag. “And he was doing what he loves to do. If you`ve gotta go, I suppose that`s the best way.“

    When it came time to bury him, Cleo still did not know the name of the woman with the blanket.

    After the ceremony, not a few of the funeral-goers retired to the Second Chance Saloon, the kind of place where nobody even thinks about messing with the motorcycles lined up outside. The splinter group wouldn`t have felt altogether comfortable at the gathering in the church basement that included Kelly`s wife and family.
    On the jukebox, Creedence Clearwater Revival`s “Fortunate Son“ refused to blend quietly into the background, and the raw protest tune set an appropriately raucous tone for the afternoon of conversation and commiseration over an injustice.

    “He`s too young,“ said DuBois. “I`m 44, too. That`s way too young.“

    Steve and Sandy Hughes, owners of the bar, tapped a keg outside and gave away its contents. After first stopping at the church, Jack Rada, a 53-year-old biker and one of the few men in the bar without facial hair, pulled up in a Mercedes sedan and bought a round for the house. In return, the truck-repair shop owner got a round of applause.
    “You couldn`t describe Kelly if you wrote a book,“ Rada said. “He was just a super guy. Say you tore a strap. Another place, they`d charge you five bucks. Kelly`d fix it and say, `Aw, get out of here.` “

    “For a while, I thought about opening up a shop of my own,“ said Diesel. “Even though it might possibly be competition for him, he bent over backwards trying to help me.“

    But he was also a savvy businessman, said Andy Lunk, who set up some computer software for Kelly in his shop. “He was always analyzing everything. Somebody tried to pull a con, he`d see right through `em.“

    He recognized early on that gaining a reputation with the clubs as a straight shooter would build his business quicker than any paid advertisements, and he knew the value of doing the little things, like giving away tins of mink oil that other stores charge $4 or $5 for. He gave out business cards, the ones that said “Almost World Famous,“ by the fistful. He sold only American-made goods, and he knew his customers cold.

    “What impressed me was when I first walked into his shop and said I wanted a leather jacket,“ said Sonny Zoromskis, a Kenoshan.

    “He said, `Okay, you wear a 42 long,` and he walked over to the rack and picked one out, and it fit me like a glove.“

    When Zoromskis was living in Florida a while back, the jacket`s front zipper broke. He sent it to Kelly`s, and it was back on his doorstep-new zipper, no charge-within a week. Kelly paid the postage.

    For a time, said June Kosior of Greenwood Village, Kelly delighted in telling new customers he kept a mongoose in the back of the shop. He`d tiptoe with the customer back to the cage, whispering all the while about how ferocious a creature it is and how easily riled.
    As the customer bent over to peer in through the tiny holes, Kelly would quietly hit the button and-SPROING!-a stuffed animal would pop out.

    “I think Kelly`s most famous line,“ Kosior said, “is, `This is gonna change your life!` He`d say that about anything that was in his shop.“

    She told a story that has made the rounds about a guy coming into the shop, looking for a pair of snakeskin boots. Cleo, who was working that day, showed him the boots and told him, “These are gonna change your life!“

    The man bought the boots and drove down Highway 12 to the Second Chance, where Kelly was sitting at the bar. He recognized the boots immediately, and, without hesitating, told the guy, “Those are gonna change your life!“

    “I`ll never forget the day at the store,“ Butler said, “when Sam rolled over for the first time. Oh, it was a big event. And he made all the customers in the store watch Sam roll over.“

    “He was a compulsive man who couldn`t do anything without it being a big thing,“ Cleo said. “And he was the most handsome man I`ve ever seen.“

    With a little help from the police, Cleo finally was able to track down the woman who tried to help her husband at the crash scene. Early this week Cleo called her and found she had been driving with her 18-month-old daughter. She thanked the woman and made plans to return her daughter`s blanket.

    The leather shop will remain open, the sisters said, but the planned move probably won`t take place. “We want to keep what we have, because there`s a lot of Kelly in that place,“ Butler said.

    There will be one change, though, Butler added. “We`re going to take the `Almost` off the cards.“

  12. JMacK Says:


    Thanks for that. Good read and good reminder. The world could use more Kellys.

    R.I.P. Kelly


  13. jj solari Says:

    damn good piece. thanks.

  14. Paladin Says:


    It seems that people like Dennis Kelly don’t come along very often. When they do, their friendship warms your heart. When they move on, as all must do, they leave a void that’s never filled.

    Long May You Ride,


  15. Ol'LadyRider Says:


    Your piece fills me with “survivor’s guilt.” There were two of us that day, and two does. By the Grace of God (no way will I ever attribute our survival to anything but), neither doe was hit and neither of us were hit by oncoming traffic or forced into the gully on the other side.

    I glean from your post that I am not half the person Kelly was. Thus the guilt. And tears.

    Be safe, everyone.

  16. CN Says:

    Seig: Very cool read man. Thanks for that. -CN

  17. Nags Says:

    I’m 1 of the lucky ones who has hit a deer at 55+ mph and walked away with little more than a broken ankle and some road rash. However I’ve lost friends (RIP Larry) and had a coworker clip 1 last week. Can’t wait for Oct 1st to get here. Scooter gets garaged and the hunting gear comes out. Good luck all. Keep em between the white lines with the shiny side up.

  18. Sieg Says:

    Rebel, thanks for letting that loooooong piece go without editing.

    And to all of youse who commented, thanks as well.

    Kelly was the tits. If you were broke, he’d hook you up with whatever you needed for whatever you could spare, or for free.

    If any of you in the WI/IL Stateline area get the chance, and you haven’t been, check Kelly’s Leathers out. Whatever you need, they got.

    But times have changed.

    Proly don’t need to tell any of you how expensive leather is these days! When I got my jacket, like, 1987, it was about $250. This is a Branded Garments jacket, made in Queens. They are a government contractor, make flight jackets for the AF, and also a supplier for the cops in NY, Chi, el-Lay, and some other cities. Quality stuff. Right now, that identical jacket, which is just an old-fashioned motorsickle jacket, is around $700!!!

    Some years after Kelly died, his widow remarried. No thing, can’t expect the Lady to mourn forever. She runs the shop now with her new hubby and their kids.

    The climate is the big change. When Kelly was alive, you’d go there on a Sunday afternoon, there’d be clubbers, independents, whatever, all mixing and mingling over a few beers and left-handed cigarettes. Didn’t much money get spent, but a good time was had by all. Now? Yuppie-City. You go in there, it’s all shiny and clean, and guys are in there dropping a few large on matching leather for them and their keepers.

    One of my Brothers found me a set of Brookfield Bags-if you know what those are, you’re old-at a garage sale for $15. The tops were gone, the fringing was gone, stitching dry-rotted, and shrunk donw to about two inches flat. Took em to Kelly, this was in the spring of ’88, and he made new tops, new straps, all new hardware, new stitching, new frings, reconditioned the leather, fucking things looked like brand new. Charged me a hundred bux. Stopped in there a few years ago, talked to Cleo about re-fringing them, fixing a spot where the stitching pulled, few things like that. $600!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Told her what Kelly charged me to do all the work, and she just shrugged.

    Times have changed.

    Anyhow. A good guy. Paladin hit it, getting harder n harder to run across Brothers like that anymore. Gives us all a mark to aim for.

    OLR, glad you came through your near-doe experience with no worse than the shakes! Nags, sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you get married!

    Bow season opened this morning, hopefully a lot of the corn-rats get got.


  19. ElleElle Says:

    I think it was my third or maybe fourth time out on my bike by myself, ever-I wasn’t going fast by any means..back roads still but heavily wooded and like a flash out of no where the deer came flying right out in front of me. I have to say, being a newb-ie, I was grateful for knowing how to emergency break and how to downshift fast, and I was glad that I had no one on my ass. The MSF class was worth every penny at that point.

  20. RtC Says:

    What can I say, other than EXCELLANT HEADS-UP! “YOU ARE THE MAN!” People need reminding of the vagaries of NATURE! Really shouldn’t, BUT, people today need reminded to wipe their ass!!
    You, SIR, are a guardian of life, THANK YOU & RESPECTS, No matter how
    insignificant. I hope to attain your plateau! I don’t see that happening
    tho! “You’re a better man than me, Gunga Din.”!
    RESPECTS to Rebel, & for the REAL

  21. Rusty Says:

    Awesome story about Mr. Kelly…..I wish SC had a 12 month deer season!

  22. SingSing Says:

    Rebel, im writing to you from the bowels of the universe, the Great Grand Septic tank known as Noo Yawk City. Just wanted to shoot you a quick note lettin you know that i apopreciate your constant vigilance and sound reporting on things near n dear to us scooter bums…Please keep up the good work and KNOW that your life’s calling is APPRECIATED. Keep on keepin us informed…

  23. Too short Says:

    Living in the Midwest, this is so common. With temperatures last week in the mid to high 90’s, and this week in the 60’s, they’re moving. My cousin hit a deer in ’97. He survived. Rode to Sturgis SD with pins and a cast on. I’ve had some real close calls. A guy I used to work with hit one and broke his back about 5 years ago. Good information here for sure. My bike is down again for the second year in a row. Bad shock. Again. Heading to hunting camp to get it ready. Summer was here and gone in a flash. Hoping hunting season proves fruitful. Got a family to feed. Better meat than the store. That’s for sure. If anyone decides to keep riding from here on out, be safe. It’s a scary time. Keep the rubber side down.


    Too Short

  24. 7of9 Says:

    Moose are my biggest fear. About all I can think of is that if I do suddenly find a moose in front of me…is that it’s just my time to go. There’s really little you can do to avoid them, they aren’t afraid of anything, and they’re huge. If you come around a corner and there’s a moose, there just isn’t much to be done about it and the moose will likely walk away.

    Happily, during hunting season, there suddenly seem to be NO moose…anywhere. It sucks for the freezer, but means the roads are a little safer!

  25. random chick who rides Says:

    last summer i hit and killed bambi. it was awful. young fawn, one of a pair ran into the road and slipped when trying to turn around to return to it’s sibling and mom. i have never had that experience before, but i did exactly what you suggested. held course, slowed down, down shifted. i was running about 75 when i saw them, and got down to about 45 when i hit the poor little thing. dinged up my running light (didn’t work anyway) and i was pretty shook up. i couldn’t tell if i’d killed it dead, so i got the bike stopped, and went back and fired a round to insure it wasn’t suffering. I hated that, but thanks for letting me know i did everything i could right.

  26. Carl Says:

    They’re thick as fleas down here. Muzzleloader season opens in a month & I’ll be out in the woods, attempting to put every one I can into my freezer.

    Stay safe out there, fellas.

  27. fayettenamhoe Says:

    hunting season, what else you got, my apologies, its allwaya hunting season, i don’t think i ever rode any bike with out a blue lite or cracker chasing me down, fuck easy rider, its been nothing but a fucking curse for me, and in the middle of the nite, i came home clean, long after you whett your fucking bed, she screamed, who the fuck are you, then i melted her down, Don’t you forget, and then every thing was all rite, hunting season? i was a hunter and i brought the prize back to her, ”’ it was me, in my looney bin was I,,,, the last human she expected, was a loon, —————————————-my apologies to ftc, the rebel and any one else i have offended, and this note is for you sweethart, you are my last wish, and may some god have mercy upon a souless SOB

  28. fayettenamehoe Says:

    hunting season, i hit deer, i hit dog, i hit another human, get out of my way, the human was on an I-phone, the deer was crossing the road, and the dog was chasing me down, my motorcycle is a dent upon your imagination, you wish, i love my womens, no grey or viagra involved,


  1. Stay safe during autumn riding season | Vigilantes M/C – Macomb Chapter - September 23, 2014

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