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Spyke and Mike – There is light at the end of the tunnel

Published on May 11, 2021 under Blog
Spyke and Mike – There is light at the end of the tunnel

Whatttsup my BTR friends? Mike and I hope all is well in your neck of the woods as we make the best of it in ours. He repeats to me daily the age old proverb: There is light at the end of the tunnel.

With all the life-altering events that have happened recently, most of you would think he’s referring to COVID or social injustice situations. But in our case, it’s the results of a catastrophic accident that occurred to us on June 22, 2019 while riding the Fat Bird 2.

In a nutshell (using this term wisely) he was healing and rehabbing from that incident right up until August of last year. Around then and almost ready to start working, getting us back on the scoot and becoming part of society again, the left knee screamed NO WAY!

His doc said the permanent fix was to replace it with a new one. Two surgeries were required. The first was to remove original hardware. The results of this were mind blowing and unexpected. The femur did not heal correctly thus complicating a knee replacement.

Mike cuts in, “Spyke, my little Plain Jane storyteller, I’ll take it from here. Mind blowing to say the least! The broken pieces didn’t fuse back together so they had to cut off my femur, replace it with a ball/rod and crammed that monstrosity into my thigh bone almost up to my crotch.”

“Then, on the lower end they installed a plate connected with another stud going down a good 10″ into my tibula almost to my ankle. Can you just imagine what the drill, bits and hammer looked like for this job?”

I squawk, “Dude! That’s not so-fa-knee and makes my little leg hurt just thinking about it. By looking at those x-rays, you’ll be setting off every metal detector you come close to. You’re supposed to sugarcoat stuff like that, not go overboard like being on the Titanic.”

“You make it sound like your surgery was done with civil war instruments where they just took a big saw, cut your leg off and rammed whatever they could up there. It was a joint operation. You had two surgeons involved. There was no pho-knee balog-knee going on. They did an awesome job, you’re walking better than ever before and you’re on the road to us riding the Fat Bird 3!”

Mike breaks in, “Yeah, I know, light at the end of the tunnel. Besides, I can’t sugar coat anything. I’m diabetic! I must cut to the bone and get the point across, literally.”

“It’s too bad they couldn’t give me one that grants me three wishes, you know a ge-knee. At least they did the surgery on a good day and didn’t lose control of their san-knee-ty. I was worried because the jokes I heard between them in pre-op were kor-knee. Enough of the knee slappers, you’ve got other stuff to babble about besides my bionic leg.”

I cackle, “Well Mike, all I can say is that you’re now u-knee-que and deserve harmon-knee going forward in your mea-knee-ingful life. If you’re referring to our road trip to the other side of the pond? Then yes, we made that Sunday afternoon journey around Tampa Bay to an awesome BTR mega bash at Pop a Beer bar and grill. It was great seeing friends like mc Sharpie and his riding group, John and Heather getting video of me squawking for the TV show and the Tommy Roxx band playing some awesome Lynyrd Skynyrd tribute songs. Tommy’s been a friend of ours for over 20 years and whenever they end a concert with Freebird, you can find me on his shoulder like the free bird that I am!”

Mike cuts me off, “You’re just one crazy colored chicken that knows how to bring out the best in people. The new normal for us is to get out more and work my leg harder than I work your feathered ass.”

I cluck, “Dude, I may be a pinstriped piece of poultry but at least I’m not as knee-de as you right now!”

We look forward to seeing more of our BTR friends out and about in the knee-ar future. We may even be riding to the Great American Motofest in July at the Boss Hogg Ranch in Plant City.

Right now it’s time for Mike and I to head off to therapy. He’s got to get his good knee under the keys, my wings out the window and the trucks’ wheels rolling down the road.

—SPYKE