Each year at the Lake of the Ozarks and in the rest of Central Missouri, an alarming number of riders are injured in motorcycle accidents. According to the Missouri Department of Transportation, a total of seventy-six serious injuries and twelve fatalities resulting from motorcycle-related accidents were reported in 2013 in the Central Missouri region. Just yesterday, Sunday, an Eldon resident was injured in a collision with a motor vehicle while riding his Harley Davidson motorcycle on Highway 52 near Hayes Road in Miller County. Thankfully, the victim was wearing his helmet and sustained injuries that were not considered to be life-threatening. While some question the validity of helmet safety testing, the weight of the evidence appears to be relatively clear. The Community Preventative Services Task Force reported in 2012, based on data collected during sixty-nine different studies, that there are 47% fewer fatalities in states with universal helmet laws than in states with either partial or no helmet laws.

The Missouri State House of Representatives and the Missouri State Senate voted last spring to repeal a law passed in 1967 that required all motorcyclists to wear helmets while riding. The hotly-contested measure was vetoed by Governor Jay Nixon in July, sparking further debate among motorcycle enthusiasts regarding the safety merits of proper helmet use versus what is seen by some as the restriction of personal liberty. For now, the law stands as it has since ’67. Advocates of helmet law reform, however, continue to work with legislators and plan to bring the issue forward again in the near future. With evolving motorcycle safety laws comes the possibility of heightened confusion for riders who are seeking accurate information. At the law offices of Price & Randle, we monitor these changes constantly, as well as any related pending legislature, and we provide counsel that is current and clear. Further information about Missouri motorcycle helmet laws and motorcycle accident-injury representation by our firm can be found at:

No route found for "GET /viewtopic.php%3Ft%3D41957" Powered by phpBB® Forum Software © phpBB LimitedA post-traumatic headache occurs after an injury to the head or neck. In fact, headache is the most common symptom people experience after a mild head injury. The pain may start immediately or up to a week after the injury. Some people still experience pain months after the injury. The headaches are caused by swelling or fluid accumulating in and around the brain. Inside the skull, there is no room for swollen tissues to expand which causes increased pressure – called intracranial pressure. About one in seven chronic daily headaches can be blamed on head and neck injuries. In the U.S. each year, there are between 1.4 million to 1.8 million head or brain injuries. More than 50 percent of these injuries are linked to alcohol use. Men are twice as likely to suffer a head injury and African Americans are twice as likely to suffer head injuries as other races. Most head injuries occur in people ages 15 to 29 and those ages 65 to 70.

Types of injuries that cause post-traumatic headaches Motor vehicle or motorcycle accident Symptoms of post-traumatic headaches Headaches made worse by exertion, coughing, bending over or head movements Changes in the sense of smell or taste Ringing in the ears Muscle contractions in the head, neck, back and shoulders Sensation of spinning, vertigomotorcycle dealers ventura county The International Headache Society defines the post-traumatic headache as:motorcycle paint shop anchorage A – Headache that has no typical characteristics known and fulfills the criteria in C and Dmotorcycle dealers in biloxi mississippi

B – Head trauma with all the following symptoms: Either no loss of consciousness, or loss of consciousness that lasted less than 30 minutes Score on glasgow Coma Scale—which is used to evaluate the level of consciousness following traumatic brain injury—equal or greater than 13 Symptoms and/or signs that are diagnosed as a concussion C – Headache develops within seven days after head traumakmart motorcycle jacket D – One or other of the following:motorcycle shops lynnwood Headache goes away within three months after head traumamotorcycle vin check victoria Headache hasn’t gone away, but the injury was less than three months agoThe concert posters were hand-drawn and looked like a child made them.

A very angry child. They were of a bald man with bloodshot eyes and driblets of sweat running down his face. An ice cream cone protruded from the side of his head like a horn. It looked like he was in excruciating pain.“Well, fok, he is in pain, ain’t he?” said Rainer. “That’s the whole fokkin’ point, right?” The construction-grade stapler cracked several times as he ensured the top right corner of the poster would remain fixed to the telephone pole for years to come. Years of practice in his cousin Ed’s garage were coming to an end. Ice Cream Headache, the band, was ready to take on the world. “Can ye believe it? We fokkin’ made it, mate.”“It’s just our first gig. I don’t think we really made it—so maybe you can give that Cockney accent a rest,” snorted Mickey. He wasn’t well versed in the music industry, but the one thing he did know was that opening up for a band called The Urinals on a Wednesday night did not constitute as ‘making it’. They were many record deals away from there, in fact.

“Fok ya!” belched Rainer. He was not going to let Mickey, or reality, thwart his feelings of accomplishment. He was finally in a band that was going to be on stage. And he was keeping his new accent.“I think I just felt a drop. Are you gonna keep at it?” prodded Mickey. Rainer looked up and down the street. It was a typical damp, irritable November night in nineteen seventy-nine and the cold air squeezed the life out of everything. “Fok ya,” was his lone reply as he crossed the street to assault all inanimate objects in that area. Rainer was never one for complex or sustained dialogue—with or without an accent, but he was one hell of a bass guitarist. His bass playing skills were attributed to both genetics and geography. And both came courtesy of a cramped basement bedroom he shared with his older brother who had a record collection heavily saturated in the thunderous strains of Deep Purple and Black Sabbath. Rainer didn’t pluck his bass strings. He savagely grabbed and pulled at them as if he were trying to disembowel his instrument.

Mickey met Rainer in eighth grade at Saint Brigid’s Elementary. While everyone else was crowding the dance floors and out-screaming each other to the alphabetical lyrics to YMCA, they were both still thrashing away like it was the early seventies. Disco had grabbed the collective consciousness of the general public, but hard-core rockers like Rainer and Mickey were not jumping on that train. They saw another train on a different platform; and it was on fire—with the engine being stoked by groups like The Ramones, Buzzcocks, The Clash and Sex Pistols. They weren’t bands—they were marauding armies that collected disenchanted youth. And Mickey and Rainer fell into lockstep quickly. In high school they were joined by likeminded misfits that heard the calling. Initial drummer Jesus, with his ever-present crucifix, was quickly replaced by Sticky Lewis and then Davey ‘Macaroni’ Marconi by grade ten, while ‘Hairy’ Larry Molaski did double duty as an added guitarist and sound engineer—because he knew what each of the knobs on the speakers did.

What they lacked in talent was made up in ear-splitting volume. They disbanded, rebranded and reformed numerous times using monikers such as The Mongrels, Groin Pull, The Mothers of Detention and The New Mongrels, before eventually settling with Ice Cream Headache. As the decade came to an end they were ready to tackle the eighties as punk music’s next big thing. All they needed were more rehearsals and, admittedly, someone who could carry a tune.They weren’t looking for a girl to lead the band but when Roz auditioned they knew she was the one. She stood only five foot even with her army boots on, but her voice was titanic; she made people listen to her. Her lyrics were brutal and prescient, while her voice battered listeners like a freak windstorm. With Roz at the helm, Ice Cream Headache wasn’t just a cluster of malcontents in Ed’s garage. But like any family, there were growing pains. As they spent time with each other, they unearthed each other’s eccentricities and battled amongst each other—depending on their adolescent predilections.

Contrasting to her diminutive stature Roz became the de facto leader of the band. Her assessment and rulings of all band-related activities were respected as law. No one ever questioned her, or they suffered the wrath of the remaining members of the band.However, this all changed in their last year of school together when Roz started dating Jack. He seemed like the perfect match for her; he was someone who could handle her. She was gritty and abrupt, and so was Jack. There was a certain charm in the way they had matching motorcycle helmets; he was rarely seen, yet they always seemed together. And everyone liked him—until the bruises started. At first they appeared infrequently and were dismissed with a swift rebuke by Roz. Motorcycles were dangerous was her constant rebuff. The bruises progressed to scratches, to cracked bones, then to unseen afflictions that eventually changed her gait and posture for days. Her transformation was quick—like a character darting through a flipbook. The band felt powerless to help.

Roz told them it was none of their business; they were just band-mates. Stick to the music, was all she would say—or she would leave.It was a full house at The Steel Helmet that frigid Wednesday night. Student friends—the ones who were able to procure fake id, lined the walls with their denim and testosterone. Even with the doors open the smell was putrid. Everything was in place, except Roz.“Where the hell is she?” blurted Hairy Larry to no one in particular, while stuffing his microphone directly into his speaker for maximum feedback. “Fok ya!” came Rainer’s ambiguous reply. He wasn’t accustomed to having a room full of people watch him plug in and tune his bass guitar.“Well, we’re getting the look from Joey. We have to be off in twenty minutes. He said The Urinals wait for no-one,” added Mickey. They all looked at Joey, the booking manager for The Steel Helmet. Joey stared down at his watch, as if he were expecting it to do a trick. Mickey began to panic. He knew that their five-song set could be cut down to four, if needed, but if Roz was any later they would miss their opportunity to play completely.

The clock was ticking on the debut of Ice Cream Headache. Mickey frantically tried to remember the words to the songs—if needed, he would sing. Or make some kind of accompanying noise with his mouth. The lyrics to their opening song ‘Vomit Trough’ ricocheted in his head. As he mentally grasped at lyrics he was smacked heavily on the back by Roz as she entered from backstage. Dropping her helmet on Rainer’s speaker, she strode to the front of the stage.The boys were bursting, but tried not to show it. They sneered from behind their pocket-sized figurehead; the melodic steamroller that would lead Ice Cream Headache to punk relevance. Their time had come. But something was wrong. The crowd elbowed each other as a dull roar coiled and spiralled itself throughout the room. The members on stage were baffled. And then Roz turned to look at the band. With a black eye.Rainer’s newly purchased Fender bass guitar made a dull thwacking sound when it caught the side of Jack’s head. But the din of it was blunted by the clamour created by upturned tables of draught glasses that crashed as Mickey and Davey tried to get to Jack first.

While Jack lay crumpled on the floor, Ice Cream Headache, in perfect unison, stomped and kicked him savagely until Joey dragged each of them out of The Steel Helmet. All before a single note was ever played.After that fateful Wednesday night Ice Cream Headache once again disbanded, rebranded and reformed, but never played a gig, citing ‘artistic differences’. The Steel Helmet continued their live music offerings before eventually transitioning to karaoke nights, and then mercifully—for all Freddie Mercury fans, to bankruptcy. A Beta World video store then took over the building before it too went into receivership. It remained unoccupied until it was gutted and restored into a sturdy, bright, upbeat structure. Outside the main doors, not far from where Ice Cream Headache lay sprawled on the sidewalk that night in November, a shiny metal plaque greets the public with the words:The Steel Helmet Hospice for Battered WomenAnd just below that, spray-painted on the wall: Fok Ya!Massimo Sartor is a writer residing just outside of Toronto.