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Tilting the horizon
Risk-takers lean their sport bikes around sharp curves on rural roads at exhilarating speeds. An anguished mother recalls her son's last ride.
By BILL COATS, Times Staff Writer
Published September 17, 2004

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KEYSTONE - There is no mystery whatsoever about how Richard Kossmann died. The question is why.

Kossmann and his powerful motorcycle roared along a gentle S-curve on Tarpon Springs Road, as he had done countless times. But on Sunday afternoon, July 11, he couldn't manage the final rightward turn.

He narrowly missed the rear corner of an oncoming pickup truck that was swerving to dodge him. Then Kossmann, 32, surrendered to momentum. He shot behind the pickup and off the road. His Yamaha R1 tore through the fence of a horse farm. But the fence post sheared Kossmann from his bike, lacerating his brain stem and sending his helmet bouncing across the road.

Lisa Dillon of Wesley Chapel was following the pickup, about 50 yards back. She estimated Kossmann streaked across her path at 70 to 80 mph.

"You couldn't really believe what you just saw until you got up there," she said.

Yet Keystone residents certainly can believe it.

For years, their country roads have provided a terrain coveted by the risk-loving riders of "crotch rockets" or "rice rockets," a reference to the bikes' Japanese manufacturers. Men as young as 18 ride motorcycles designed to speed as fast as 170.

They test their skills leaning into curves like the ones near the intersection of Tarpon Springs and Wayne roads, where a sign suggests that drivers slow to 30 mph. There, Kossmann, a respiratory therapist living in Northdale, lost control.

"He knew that road like the back of his hand," said Kossmann's mother, Barbara Kossmann. "It wasn't like he never rode it before."

Richard always was the most prudent of her three sons, she said. But he seemed to become less careful after his older brother Tom died of a heart attack three years earlier.

The Yamaha R1 had belonged to Tom.

"I do think it made him, like, "What the hell. Why bother? You do all these things in your life and you try to do everything right, and you die' " she said. "I don't think he planned to kill himself, but I do think that he was more reckless than he had been at other times."

Roller-coaster effect
Cpl. Don Morris is the Sheriff's Office's traffic coordinator in northwestern Hillsborough County. He knows motorcycle speeding is a problem in some sections of eastern Hillsborough and he knows it happens after hours in vacant industrial parks.

He's not so sure about Keystone, but wouldn't be surprised.

"Wide open roads that are isolated attract not just motorcycle riders that want to speed, but all types of vehicle drivers that want to speed," Morris said.

Rod Reder, the Sheriff's Office's media spokesman, has far fewer doubts. Reder used to play Sunday rounds of golf at the Silver Dollar Golf Club, flanking the sharpest curve on Patterson Road. Patterson may be the granddaddy of Keystone's open roads: 4 miles of rural vistas with stop signs only at the end points.

"On Patterson, on Sunday mornings, it was a raceway," Reder said. "It's absolutely unbelievable what these guys try to do on these little bikes.'

Of course, neighbors have complained to Reder's department. But there's little the Sheriff's Office can do.

By policy, deputies don't chase a vehicle unless they suspect the driver has committed a criminal offense, or is drunk, Reder said. Speeding alone isn't enough.

In the case of rice rockets, a chase could be futile, or fatal.

"Our vehicles don't have the ability to keep up with those bikes," Morris said.

"Those things are built for speed," said Reder. "They're very, very powerful. I don't think it's anything for them to cruise at 120 miles an hour."

Patrol officers theoretically can outwit a speeder with radios by guiding fellow officers to intercept the speeder farther down the road. But that requires a valid description of the motorcycle, which may pass in a flash, bearing a license plate the size of a greeting card.

In motorcycle terminology, vehicles that speed rather than cruise are "sport bikes." Keystone's Steve Metzer, who owns one, said one of the most exquisite experiences aboard a sport bike is called "tilting the horizon," as the rider leans into one curve then another.

Most of the action shots in Yamaha's sport-bike advertisements show riders tilting the horizon.

"It's very much a roller-coaster-like effect," Metzer said.

Keystone lends itself to tilting.

"You have the opportunity to lean over like that quite a bit," Metzer said. "That's pretty exciting for a lot of people, myself included."

"You are grown men'
At 40, Metzer is now a father of two, a board member of the Keystone Civic Association and less of a daredevil on two wheels.

But he knows enough about the sport to know that sport-bikers flock to Patterson, Boy Scout, and Tarpon Springs roads in groups of 10 or more, and safety sometimes takes a back seat.

"The mantra is to ride within the level of your ability," Metzer said. "Certainly, people go out to test themselves."

The youngest riders are the greatest risk-takers, he said.

Which makes it all the more surprising that Richard Kossmann would die at 32 on a sport bike.

"Richard had gotten older," said Barbara Kossmann. "He said, "They're just a little bit too wild for me.' They used to do stunts out there."

Richard Kossmann was born in Queens, N.Y., and came with his family at age 10 to Holiday. He managed several Arby's restaurants after high school, then some Sbarro pizza stores in malls before studying to become a respiratory therapist. Kossmann moved closer to Tampa for a job at Tampa General Hospital. He dreamed of augmenting his education in the field, his mother said.

Kossmann and both his brothers liked sport bikes, much to their mother's anguish. She wanted to lock the motorcycles away.

"But," she told her sons, "you are grown men and you make your own decisions."

Over 12 years, Richard received seven speeding citations, but none since the death of his brother Tom.

"Rich liked to go fast," said his dad, Bill Kossmann.

The morning of July 11, Richard Kossmann and his brother Michael rode their sport bikes to the gulf-front Fred Howard Park in Tarpon Springs.

Michael, 22, followed his older brother back on Tarpon Springs Road, but they became separated in traffic. Michael passed Richard's body moments after the accident, before authorities had arrived, and didn't notice an accident scene, their mother said. He thought nothing was wrong until he arrived in Northdale and Richard wasn't home. Michael retraced his route and discovered the tragedy.

Bill Kossmann was approached by a deputy in the Citrus Park mall, where he works at Villa Pizza. He hurried to the accident scene.

The Kossmanns had lost their second son in four years.

"It's the most horrible thing that could ever happen to a parent," Barbara Kossmann said. "They're supposed to bury you. You're not supposed to bury them."

The surviving son, Michael, has been quiet, his mother said. "He's dealing with it in his own way."

Also, she said, Michael has decided to sell his sport bike.



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Yup I read that article before I rode with you last time... Pisser... And yeah, that is kinda where I play out there...
 
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