The Legend of Rick Ream

Dale’s partner proves he is in fact a Viking warrior.

Rick Ream on his custom-painted Harley. His left foot still looks like this. His right…? Well...

FEB. 28-MARCH 9 WAS Bike Week in Daytona Beach, FL. Beginning in 1937 with the first running of the Daytona 200 motorcycle race, it is now one of the largest motorcycle rallies in the world with expected crowds of over 600,000, generating $100 million in local revenue.

And since 1983, Rick has ridden his custom-painted Harley over there with his crew, while I hold down the fort. But this time…

Police Report (spun as I imagine it transpired)

“Wednesday, March 5, approx 5 p.m. EST: Subject approaches intersection of Harvey Ave. and Atlantic Ave. Subject claims crosswalk pavers were uneven, projecting above grade level, and ‘slippy’ from recent rainfall. As subject slows for red light, an errant paver catches his right foot, twisting it 90° north. The subject is traveling west.”

“This results in an 847-lb. custom-painted Harley to fall, crushing his right foot. Cutting subject’s boot from the appendage, paramedics confirm that he has a compound fracture of the right ankle. At this point his friend calls his business partner [me] to retrieve subject’s Harley, and reports bones sticking out the side of subject’s ankle.”

Yes, people, bones! Sticking out of his skin. (I have photos if anyone is interested.)

I’m at work, Rick’s wife is home, he’s an hour away, sitting on a sidewalk with his foot pointing in a … let’s just call it not a “natural” direction.

The ambulance carts him to Halifax Health Medical Center (a Level-5 Trauma Center by the Daytona Speedway), and by the time I talk to him that evening, he’s speaking in cursive, obviously enjoying the red medicine button he’s gripping. Babbling something about being a Viking.

So, Thursday morning he’s rolled into the ER, but the team has trouble intubating him. Blocking the tube is a mass, an obstruction in Rick’s throat.

The ankle is now a secondary concern, and they opt to ship him to UF Health Shands Hospital in Gainesville to see an ENT specialist — the hearts of those privy to this info sinking fast.

We didn’t sleep well that night. We all know Rick is a man of a certain age. With an obvious calcium deficiency. And they were sending him to Shands? We were all worried sick.

But they still have to temporarily “fix” his ankle until he can have the real surgery. So they nerve-block his leg, install a curtain across his chest, and unanesthetized Rick listens as they stretch, scrub, drill and screw his foot back onto his leg. An hour in, the doctor pops his head over the curtain and announces they were all clean breaks, and he performed the full surgery all while Rick was awake and talking to them! His leg is “fixed,” but he still has to face the throat issue the next day.

We don’t hear from him that day until 4 p.m.

“Well, they did a CT on my throat…” Rick starts.

“And?!”

“They said I have swollen tonsils, gave me some antibiotics, and Debbie’s on her way to pick me up.”

Oh my God! We’re over here tripping out, and he’s got tonsillitis?!

I’m the one who’s dead!

And the worst part? We’re all gonna have to acknowledge that he is indeed a Viking (Scottish lineage mixed with scattered Viking invasions/plundering/etc. through the ages).

Only dude I know who can change a compound fracture into a joyous occasion… Nobody cares about his ankle now. We’re all just happy he’s still gonna be with us.

Unless Debbie kills him herself… They had to cancel their trip to Morocco later in March. He just may be Viking-drinking from a straw!

Signs of The Times Article