Ok, Mondays suck. But hey, I am only back to work a week, then I'm off again to Colorado for some fun. So I'm coming off the S/B Hwy. 680 offramp to Mission Blvd. in Fremont to get over to Hwy. 880. I'm on the motorsickle and it's zero dark thirty in the morning. Now, anybody from the area knows that for some reason at this time all these anxious folks coming W/B on Mission just seem to have to get over immediately into the #2 lane even to the point of cutting across the white solid lined gore point. So, I am always heads up at this point for this type of merging. I make it past the dangerous part, or so I think, and I am now firmly in my W/B #2 lane. The offramp just turns into this lane so no merging on my part, I have the right of way. Suddenly out of my left peripheral vision I kind of notice a flash of red. Then, without warning, a full size pickup darts right in front of me from the #1 lane into my lane without warning, signalling, etc. Just as fast, the guy slams on his brakes I'm assuming because traffic in front of him has slowed or stopped . Now, keep in mind that the truck cut in front of me leaving me about 10 ft. tops to begin with. Now that space is suddenly gone as his tailgate is rapidly filling my vision with no time to spare. I start to swerve left, but instantaneously realize it is brake time. I have to get on the binders hard. Now, as most of you motorcycle riders know, locking up the front tire is always problematic. But, if you are lucky enough to be perfectly upright and don't have your wheel turned any, you can theoretically ride it out. Not so for me. None of this slow motion life before your eyes lay down the bike and hope for the best stuff here. One minute I am jumping on the brakes, the next minute I am tumbling ass over teakettle down the pavement. I can hear the bike doing the same. I'm bouncing so long that I actually have time to formulate the opinion that it sure would be nice to stop bouncing down the asphalt and come to a stop. I'm trying to keep my arms and legs from flaying about too much, but I realize during my rolling that my left leg has managed to flop out and I feel my groin muscles ripping. After it seems like an eternity, I come to a rest. My first thought is that I need to get out of traffic or the next sound I hear will be screeching brakes and I will become somebodies new front axle ornament. I try to move but that isn't going to be a happening thing. To say that the pain was intense would be a gross understatement. I can't move a muscle. Fortunately several good citizens come to my aid, block traffic, and call for help. Since all cellular calls go through CHP first, I don't get a bambulance for about 15-20 mins. But, they finally arrive and off I go Code 3 to a trauma center. Long story short, after 2+ days in the trauma unit, I have three broken ribs, a cracked sternum, several torn muscles (too many to count) and mucho road rash. Surprisingly, the Harley faired reasonably well considering I left much locked wheel skid and the bike came to rest about 150 ft. down the road. I am finally home and they gave me lots of pain killers. As an aside, I did make a serious tactical error that I won't do again. While the missus headed off to get my meds from the pharmacy, I laid down and fell asleep. By the time I woke up, all my meds were completely out of my system. Now I can feel every single pain associated with my little flight and all my muscles have stiffened up to concrete. I'm flat on my back and can't get up out of bed. It took me 15 min. of maneuvering to get upright and I nearly passed out twice. Lesson learned, never let your pain meds run out. The end result is that my Colorado trip is **** canned and I get to spend several weeks gimping about the house irritating the family. The good news is that the scoot isn't as damaged as I am. Despite all the pleading to the contrary, I will be keeping it and any insurance money I end up with will help finish the Blazer for next summer. I also got to try a smogasboard of pain meds. Morphine, Dilaudin, Percocet, Demerol, and the one they finally sent me home with, Norco with an Ibuprofen chaser. Since this is the second good wreck I've been in on a scoot, I was already aware of the value of a good set of leathers. I was glad that I opted to put everything on in the morning as I nearly left off the chaps and went with the lighter gloves. Had I done so, I'm sure I would be far worse. I have major road rash on the legs, and the gloves were ground down all the way through to my watch which also ground away. The helmet is ripped apart but the coat didn't do too adly. The boats are also scuffed up but will survive. I also took some scraping to the safety glasses I was wearing so I was glad I had my clear S&W shooting glasses on for nighttime riding.