I could hear a small car engine revving hard, followed a nanosecond later by a VW appearing in my peripheral vision, and then the sickening crunch as the car slammed into the side of my bike. The young physiotherapist who’d been following behind us later described the incident as “outrageous – I’ve never seen anything like it”.

My wife and I were riding the Valkyrie home along Palatine Road in Manchester at 7 pm on a rainy July evening, and the traffic meant we were doing about 18 mph in the outside of two lanes. We’d just gone past a side road; I reckon the bike was already three quarters past the junction.

The numpty in the VW spotted a gap in the traffic and decided to accelerate hard out of the side road, turn left and join the main road. He was so focused on getting out in front of the next car that he drove straight into the bike. Responding more to senses than anything else, I tried to move as far away from the oncoming bonnet as I could, but he still hit us hard and down we went.

I was vaguely aware of pains in my left knee, ribcage and left elbow, but got up quickly and tended to my wife, who was lying on her back on the wet street. She was hurting on her left arm and left knee but seemed otherwise okay as people started to come to our aid.

I looked over to find the car driver and shouted “What the hell did you think you were doing?” I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t see you,” came the lame reply. That took me instantly back more than 40 years to a TV programme I made in the ‘70s with some colleagues from the British Motorcyclists’ Federation (BMF). The BBC gave us 15 minutes to air a programme about bikes, and we decided to go with a road safety theme. We called the programme “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you” – what irony!

My wife was in obvious pain but the first three people to attend were the physio, a passing nurse and a passing doctor. An ambulance arrived in record time and the crew tended to Peter’s wounds, which were a gash to her knee and a worse one on her forearm. A couple of guys helped me pick up the Valkyrie and move it to the pavement. It didn’t seem too badly damaged, having sustained mostly left-side scratches and scrapes.

I exchanged insurance with the car driver, who seemed genuinely contrite for what he’d done, no doubt prompted by the sight of Peter still lying on the wet road. He told me a couple of more times that he was sorry but he hadn’t seen us. I wanted to know how he could miss seeing us: huge bike, headlight on, fairly large rider, not six feet away from him. He just sort of shrugged. He didn’t see us because he hadn’t looked.

The good news is that our wounds were suitably dressed after a four-hour visit to A&E, and eventually healed. I had badly bruised ribs, a moderately deep cut on my left arm and a small chip of bone off the apex of my left elbow. We were lucky, really, because we had most of our riding gear on, apart from protective trousers. The helmets were both heavily scratched, showing yet again how important good headgear is, even in a low-speed fall. Peter’s leather jacket had elbow and shoulder armour but somehow she sustained that nasty cut without the jacket sustaining too much damage.

The insurance company (Carole Nash) was great, sending the bike off to 8Ball Custom Paintwork in Ripley, Derbyshire, for some top-notch repairs: the parts that were no longer available (front and rear portions of the silencer) were expertly repaired and re-chromed, and the rest replaced or repaired. The claim of personal injury and riding gear is ongoing.

A final thought: be sure to keep the receipts for your riding gear. I always have, but still couldn’t find those for my Rukka suit bought 17 years ago. A lot has happened to motorcycle gear in the past 17 years, not least the establishment of certain garments as fashion items. Where once there might have been two or three Rukka jackets, there are now about 25. Try sorting through those to find the closest to a direct replacement for your old jacket!

Helmets can be a problem, too: my trusty Schuberth S2 is no longer made, and nor is my wife’s Shoei GT Air. Try explaining to the lawyers why a £400-odd helmet now costs £600. My heartfelt thanks go out to the folk at Motolegends in Surrey for their help with pricing.