Daily News Only Here

June 24, 2009

All Posts, News

Every day of the year there are somewhere between 15 and 60 major motorcycle accidents. This page ignores most of them because there is just never much to say. But we notice the carnage on the road and just once we thought you might want to take a small glimpse at the big picture of motorcycling in the United States.

If you care to know, this is just a little of what your local paper and television stations did not tell you today.

Dump Trucks, Guardrails And Falls

A biker named Steven R. Samsil, 50, of Cadiz, Kentucky died trying to pass a slow moving dump truck on Kentucky Route 274. The truck turned left in front of him. The two collided. The truck won and Samsil died of multiple blunt force injuries. A spokesman for the Kentucky State Police said the truck driver would not be charged with anything.

In Arlington, Texas a 41-year-old motorcyclist named Douglas Trimm died when he lost control of his bike on an overpass. Trimm flew off the Highway 360 overpass and fell 20 feet to the eastbound lanes of Interstate 20.

In Norristown, Pennsylvania last night two bikes were racing across the Dannehower Bridge. One racer had a girl on the back of his bike and when he lost control and went down she was thrown off the bridge. Her name was Ryan Benita Benjoman and divers pulled her body out of the Schuylkill River early this morning. She was 19.

And, Sean Fisher, 29 died in Belleville, Illinois last night after his bike hit a guardrail while he was travelling in the westbound lanes of Illinois Route 15.

Drunks and Gravel

A former state trooper named Arthur Ryan Koonce, 31, died in Nacogdoches, Texas last night when a Toyota Four-Runner hit his Victory Vegas. The Toyota was driven by a man named Paul D. Darden. Darden had been drinking.

Raul Heredia, 40, of Gilroy, California died in the road last night after he was struck by a white, 1995 Nissan pickup truck. The truck fled the scene.

Cathyann Pandolfo, 49, of Uxbridge, Massachusetts was killed and her husband Derek Pandolfo, 50 was seriously injured on the way back from the Laconia rally. Their bike hit a patch of gravel on Interstate 93 near Windham New Hampshire and flipped over.


George Welsh, 46, of Fort Wayne, Indiana is in critical condition after hitting a deer this morning on Interstate 469. Witnesses said Welsh had just gotten on the road when the deer ran into his path.

Last night near Ephrata, Washington 59-year-old Russel Triplett hit a cow on State Road 28. A good Samaritan named Dora Coreas Guzman, 46, stopped behind Triplett and turned on her hazard lights. And then she was struck by a Ford Windstar driven by a woman named Debra Nelson. That collision broke Gusman’s neck and drove her car over Triplett’s bike but he survived.

And Also

Over the weekend, a small pack of eight bikes went down in Sullivan, Illinois trying to avoid road debris. Five of the bikers were hospitalized.

And, Koreen Burgess, 46, of Garland, Utah was seriously injured and her husband Brady Burgess, 38, was slightly injured when a pronghorn antelope tried to leap over their bike on Highway 191 near the Snake River Outlook in Grand Teton National Park. The Burgesses were on the lead bike in a seven bike pack.

Keep your head up and your eyes moving. Rubber side down. Shiny side up. Don’t daydream.

Requiescat In Pace

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9 Responses to “Daily News Only Here”

  1. Rebel Says:

    Dear Daughter of a Biker,

    I am sorry if you think I was flippant and disrespectful about your father’s death. I am a flippant and disrespectful guy. Please feel free to yuck it up when some guy kills me.

    I do not intend to retract what I said. The report I had, six months ago, was a quote from the state police that the driver would not be cited. The truck did win. Your father did lose. I thought that maybe the people who read this site should take a minute to notice because I know that about 99.99999 percent of the rest of the country would not.

    I am sorry for your loss.


  2. Daughter of a Biker Says:

    Dear Rebel,

    I understand you are trying to make a point but I completly disagree with what you have written about my father who I lost in the bike accident involved with a dump truck while I was deployed to Iraq. That man died doing what he loved which was riding his bike the last people he saw that day was his grandchildren that he had just kissed bye before going to work just minutes before he lost his life. I dont appreciate how you have worded your write up that the truck won and the man that was driving the truck WAS cited for not having signals so your write up is false. The man driving the truck and my father were very good friends and I am sure they both would appreciate it and so would I out of respect for our families if you would remove this information off of your website.

  3. FatBobber Says:

    My new signature on my site:



  4. Rebel Says:

    Dear Miss Priss,

    I am not making light of any of this. I apologize for giving you that impression. I will try to do better the next time. I am sorry for your loss.


  5. Rebel Says:


    Okay. That’s a pretty good one.


  6. BreakingPoint Says:

    I must say, first off: Rebel, I wish I would have followed through a little better before I made my accusations, but I still ended up with yoke on my face. I should change my name from Breaking Point to Yoke Head. I find it thorley amusing I’m checking this site for the latest breaks, because it seems well rounded here, without all the shit storm people feed ya.

    Anyway, let me see if I can bring a amusing true tale of myself to the table for everyone’s amusement. I’m no writer but lets see what I can do.
    I had been on a bike 1 year and thought I was pretty familiar with my bike and it’s limits. It was a normal day and my brothers showed up for a ride. I had just replaced my pipes and was feeling a little froggy and I think my chest out weighed my belly. From this point we all mounted up. I remember reaving the engine several times to hear the roar of the pipes settled by deep engine just poring away. I think it must have been this point, I was more concerned with my bikes cosmetics then even focusing on the ride itself. We all speed off like normal, and were maybe .75miles away from my house. We were riding in formation as usual, but I felt the need to gun it to hear them pipes again. There is a down hill left sides turn, all of about maybe 100yards. I hit 75 maybe 80mph on entering this section. I tried to lean left into the turn, but the bike kept going right, further and further. I knew If I slowed I would just hit it, so I leaned harder. Nope not enough. My front tire hit the curb and the back tire aligned itself perfect with the curb, which then jerked my ass off and threw me from the bike. I knew it was happening, but I don’t remember the initial flight my body took, but I do remember hitting the ground, and rolling for what I thought was 5 min, but I understand only a couple sec. While I felt my body rolling over and over , I remember thinking, “Fuck when is this shit going to stop”. It did finally. Brothers say I rolled 40 yrds or so. All I could think about was my bike and how bad it was fucked up? I stood up, and took one step and fell down again. I looked around and noticed pieces of my jeans scattered around and the entire right sleeve of my leather jacket. At this point I still was more interested In my bike. I stood up again, and walked just fine, a little dizzy but fine. I noticed I had cuts all over but nothing major I could I see at the time. I see my bike down and my bro’s are screaming you ok,holy shit, etc etc!!!! I make it to my bike and we get it up. Needless to say my pipes and the entire right side of my bike are destroyed!! Then people start laughing, and laughing!!! I told them all this shit is not funny! It seemed In unison 3 of them said to look down. I did , and Wow, it seems from the crash, I was missing my crouch area the whole area, and out to play was my junk. A couple nicks and scratches on that, but my dike was totally hanging out there. I looked like a homeless bumb in cut up jeans and all dirty and dick out! Anyway, no major damage other then road rash and a 6,000$ fixer job. No one called the cops , but not more then 2 min later ambulance on sense and my now I’m not worried about my bike, I’m just more concerned about my cock out. Well, all in all, I’m thankful I did not loose my dick, so next time anyone gets In a accident, just remember if you keep your dick, all is good, everything else hopefully can be replaced If you walk away.

  7. Miss Priss Says:

    I cannot believe you are taking such a nonchalant approach to these stories!!

    I know you’re trying to make a point but as someone who is a friend of Doug’s Daughter..SHOW SOME COMPASSION!!!

  8. Rebel Says:

    That is good Bear,

    Cloak of invisibility. I wish I had said that.

    And, here is my amazing bike accident I got up and walked away from story:

    About fifteen or sixteen years ago I got my very first new motorcycle and so I was riding around on surface streets to break in the engine. I wanted to try to put 500 miles on it the first day on surface streets. Couldn’t wait to change the oil the first time.

    I was near the corner of Tijuana and Medical Center Drive in San Berdoo, speeding just slightly, trying to make a light, when I hit about a two-foot deep, un-coned, construction hole in the street. Naturally, I grabbed the brand new front brake. Which did not help.

    The bike flipped and I flipped with it and I went sliding through the intersection. The motor kept running, the rear wheel turning and I can still see the rear tire coming close to my face as I slid through the intersection. I was on my back. Bike was pointed in opposite direction from where it been going just a second before. Black neighborhood. Light changed and people are honking at me to get out of their way as I continue to lay in the intersection and driving around me. Thought I was dead for sure. Lot of road rash. Dislocated my shoulder.

    Well what are you going to do? Bike is all beat to shit but still ridable. This is what I love about Harleys. Not the best bikes in the world but they will run. I popped up. It was either that or get run over. Got the bike up. Got my arm back into my shoulder socket. Pushed the bike out of the intersection and took a deep breath.

    I rode back about 70 miles on surface streets to LA Harley in Southgate. Pieces hanging off the bike. I hurt. Did about $5000 in damage to the bike. Bent the Springer. It was a Springer. My first brand new bike. Very first ride on it. If I could have, I would have thrown my body under that bike to protect it.

    Get to that dealer. Get the damage estimated. I am still bleeding. Call my old lady for a ride home. She goes like, “Oh, geez! I thought this is why I told you you could get a new bike?! So I wouldn’t have to come get you anymore when the bike broke down? You just got that fucking thing and you broke it already? Were you this fucking stupid when I married you?” Well, I sweet talked her into it. I got my ride.

    Bike was back up and running in about six weeks. My shoulder still isn’t right. But life goes on. Just wasn’t my day to die.

    your pal,

  9. Bear Says:

    With the considerable riding background of many of us who frequent your site, I’m sure we could overload your server space with stories of friends lost and near misses. I’ve got 26 years in the saddle; I’ve riden through 37 states and 6 contries, but I’ve never forgotten the words of the man who taught me to ride. My brother in law was the prototypical biker, Turk was his name. When he was teaching me he pointed to the bike and said “what’s that”; a… motorcycle?? I replied. No, it’s a cloak of invisibility. The moment you get on no one in a cage will see you or hear you; you have to see them, you have to hear them and you have to predict what they’re about to do. If you don’t one day one of them will kill you. I saw my buddy go down 3 weeks ago on the way home from work. An 18″ diameter sonotube came out of the truck he was behind. I saw it come out, saw him hit it and watched as he went down; slid 167′ and tumbled 5 or 6 times. When I got stopped he popped up; brushed the gravel out of his forearms, cursed because the can of chew he had in his pocket had broken and then started asking me if I thought his bike would make it home. One tough SOB! He told the cop he didn’t need an ambulance; his old lady had fixed up worse. Between the sonotube staying under the front end, the engine gaurd doing it’s job and the fact that the bike never left the pavement or flipped the bike wasn’t in too bad a shape and the dude mounted up and we rode the rest of the way to the house. I wanted to share that because I’m sure a lot of us have stories that didn’t turn out as good and it’s nice to know that some of us walk or ride away once in a while.

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