Every morning as I merge on to the I-5 freeway in Southern California, my head bounces from left to center as I cross into the fast lane to start my 22-mile journey to the Cruiser office. Only this morning, a van had dropped an array of god-knows-what all over the freeway, so as my head was facing backwards, checking the lane to make sure it was clear to change into, I was suddenly kicked off of my bike. The front hit with enough force to bend the bars down and taco the front wheel, but the back was what sent me flying. As the rear wheel hit, I was bucked up off the bike and spent a moment flying above it looking down at the motorcycle before grabbing the bars and landing with my stomach on the seat. Twisting the throttle to right myself and gain some stability, I was able to wrestle myself back on the bike and regain control. As I looked at the cars around me in disbelief and tried to look behind me to see what it was that I had just hit, I could feel that my tires were already almost empty and my wheels were seriously damaged. Once to the side of the road, I was able to fully assess the state of the bike, but I’ll be damned if my phone wasn’t sitting pretty and unharmed in my RAM mount. That was a damn hard hit, enough to bend the bars, and my phone was totally secure in the X-grip.