Robinson and
the Ack Attack go down hard!
The Top 1 Ack Attack took a huge
tumble late in the first day of competition at Mike Cook’s Landspeed Shootout. The team
took to the salt shortly after the meet was called to a close ending the first
day of competition. The goal was to do a couple of low speed “calibration runs”
to synchronize the wheel sensors with the new traction control system. This
would be the first time this system would be utilized on the current world’s
fastest motorcycle in hopes of getting better hookup at the rear wheel.
Because the meet was already over for the evening, the
ambulance had already left and course workers had begun cleanup and grooming of
the course for the following day. We trailered the
bike to the 3 Mile mark and unloaded on hard, smooth salt.
At this point the bodywork had been left off for easier access to the TC unit
which would possibly need adjusting during the test. It should also be noted
that there was no parachute installed in the bike, which in hindsight was a bad
idea, but at the speeds we anticipated running, it was decided it probably
wasn’t necessary. We pushed off and I ran the machine up to around 100 mph,
pulled in the clutch and free-wheeled for over a mile collecting data for our
new system. I dropped the landing gear, eased on the rear brake and brought her
to a stop without incident.
At this point
I thought the testing was over.
Mike and the
crew then trailered the bike down to the pit end
where the salt was really wet with holes and a loose crust. They unloaded right
in the middle of it. As a driver I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea, but what
I learned was Mike wanted me to break the rear tire loose (or see if I could
which would override the traction control) and he figured in the loose salt it
would be the easiest place to do so. Against my better judgment I climbed
aboard while my crew strapped me in. On our first push off I was unable to get
the twin transmissions into gear. We stopped, regrouped and connected the push
vehicle a second time. To give you an idea how wet and soft the ground was, the
weight of the bike created a hole that we literally had to roll the bike out of
before we could take off.
About a ¼ mile ahead of us was a channel where water had
run across the track and cutting a trough along the way. This was
filled in with loose salt which concerned me because I knew I would have to
have the gear up before I hit this otherwise it could catch and put the 21 foot
streamliner on its side. After both engines were lit, the push vehicle put us
in motion, squirming our way down the wet salt. Mike read off the speeds to me,
“20, 30, 40 mph. Go Rocky,” he said. Usually we push up to 50 but with the
channel of loose soil approaching quick, there was no time, I had to get the
gear up and out of the way.
As soon as the
gear was up I noticed the bike felt kind of squirrelly. It tipped from one side
to the other slipping in the wet salt. I rolled the throttle on gingerly and
managed to get it straight up just before the loose channel of salt crossing
the course came along. I made it through it with no drama then started rolling
hard into the throttle. I kept watching the red light which shows wheel slip.
Again, the goal being to make it slip and override the
traction control. I was picking up speed but the motors felt like they were
laying down, kind of like the gearing was too tall, but what it really was was the traction control only allowing minimal throttle
keeping the tire from spinning in the loose salt.
I continued
rolling into it. I must have been ¾ throttle, which
under normal circumstances would have the engines revving and the turbo
spooling up starting to make horsepower. The course was bumpy and wet, and
difficult for a 1000 horsepower 21 foot long motorcycle to accelerate on. I hit
a patch of decent salt with a little grip and that was all she wrote. Like a
light switch, the full magnitude of the twin engine powerplant hit all at once. The engines revved hard, the tire spun and started coming
around on the left. I was crossed up like a flat tracker exiting the turn on
the mile. The bike was leaning right and for a moment I thought I might low
side. I steered right and was actually able to save it and pick the long
streamliner back upright. The rear tire was spinning so fast by this point that
after it righted itself the rear shot to the right, snapping like a whip, this
time low siding to the left at a 90 degree angle to the direction of
travel.
Remember there is no bodywork on the bike and this time
the frame caught the ground, digging into the salt and catapulting the Ack Attack into the air. The bike was spinning clockwise
through the air and hit hard, directly on the roll cage and nose of the bike,
crushing the aluminum nose tank and sprayin g hot water everywhere. The impact was
so great that I had a death grip on the handlebars; even though I had arm
restraints on I was determined not to let go and trust them or anything else.
This is why I trained so hard in the off season, so I could react and so I
could protect myself and also so as to minimize injury should it be
unavoidable. I felt my neck and back
compress against me, even though I tightened my torso and fought to keep from
collapsing fully.
Without the
bodywork the bike caught and lifted
again, spinning in the air, coming down on its lid a second time, this time the
tail hitting hard, smashing the exhaust cone in the process. The bike continued
to catch, lift and roll repeatedly. Part of an upper frame rail ripped free
from the bike, snagging into the salt and digging a deep gouge filled in red
from the powder coated frame rail. One of the water pipes that runs the length of the bike from the nose tank to the
engines ripped free, as did smaller mounts and sheet metal pieces which tore
free on impact. The cell phone that we use for a radio receiver flung into the
air and landed 30 feet away from the machine once it finally came to rest. It
all happened in seconds, yet I still see it in slow motion every time I close
my eyes.
I immediately
undid my harness and released my arm and leg restraints. A pool of liquid was
quickly flowing all around me and I wanted nothing more than to get the hell
out. I yelled at the first person I saw, who grabbed my arm and helped pull me
from the liner which was now lying in a heap on its side. My thinking was that
I would rather be lying broken on the salt than get caught burning inside the
streamliner should I wait too long to decide. As it turned out, most of the
pooling liquid was the coolant from the nose, but I was glad to be out just the
same. I got to my feet and staggered away from the bike. My crew grabbed me and
sat me down on the fender of our trailer which had just pulled up. I was hurt
and possibly in shock. I felt dizzy and started feeling nauseous. Someone
handed me a phone and told me I’d better call my wife, who was already back at
the hotel since the meet was officially over for the day. I could hear the
panic in her voice when I told her she needed to come out here and that I’d
been in a bit of an accident.
It was then that I became really dizzy and thought I might
faint of pass out. They laid me on the salt and cut my race suit and t-shirt
off to have a closer look. Next thing I remember I’m in an ambulance strapped
to a backboard with a neck brace on and my head taped to the board. It was a
long, miserable ride to the hospital in
Salt Lake City
, but I was happy that I was still
around to feel the pain and as Burt Munro would say, “I lived to tell the tale,” I could live with that.
The extent of my injuries thus far are as follows: They did a CT
Scan of my spine and found no fractures. The big word stuff that I have no clue
about goes as follows: multilevel face arthropathy with resultant neural foraminal narrowing most
advanced at L3/L4, and L4/L5. Ankylosis of the bilateral sacroiliac joints. In layman’s terms, no
fractures, but my back is somewhat buggered…
My right
shoulder is also broken in a couple of places, and its clear in the x-ray that
my clavicle broke on the inner side of the shoulder harness while my actual
shoulder broke on the outer side of the harness. I’m okay with that because the harness is
what held my head, neck and back from crumbling into a heap when I was pile -drived upside down into the upper roll ca ge. And o nce ag ain I’m happy that, “I’m still here to
tell the tale…”