Dad loved that Indian and the feeling of freedom it gave him. However, all that changed in an instant giving him a new respect for life and the powers that be. Dad rode that indian rain or shine, and a little cold weather wasn't going to slow him down either. One February morning back in 1951, with nothing to fear, he was off and running without a care. It was cold but not too bad for such a young and handsome lad. The roads weren't slick or icy at all; bridge up ahead he'd later recall. He soon found out that bridges freeze before the roadways do. Dad went across a little bridge sliping and sliding trying to maintain control when he hit a pot hole that sent him sailing, almost ending it all. He suffered a fractured skull causing a cerebral injury, the bleeding in the brain built up so much pressure that its only way out was to bust his eardrum which left him deaf in one ear. He suffered cuts and abrasions that left scars on his forehead, cheek, upper lip, the left side of his nose. He lay unconscious for thirteen days, and suffered from amnesia for twenty one days after that. Even after all that Dad still loved his Indian but he also had a new found respect for its power.