By CHERYL N. SCHMIDT cschmidt@tampatrib.com

LAKELAND - Robin Klapatch was at her overnight shift as a nurse in the kidney unit of Lakeland Regional Medical Center when she couldn't get in touch with her son, Jeffrey.

The 18-year-old usually checked in when he got home.

At about 4:30 a.m., she tried his cell phone, and a man answered. He didn't identify himself, just asked where she was and said he was on his way to see her.

A short while later, the man, Lakeland police Lt. Victor White, and a female officer came down the hall at the hospital, and Klapatch knew something bad had happened.

Jeffrey had been going more than 100 mph in a 35 mph zone on the Yamaha Super Sport he'd bought with his high school graduation money. He couldn't negotiate a turn and flew into a tree.

That death was immediate was some consolation, but the description from police and the funeral director still haunt Klapatch: "He's not viewable."

"Boys are invincible; they don't think it can happen to them," his mother said five months later as she reflected on why he would have been so reckless. "This kid was 6 [foot] 2 and 200 pounds, and it took a blink of an eye to tear his body to shreds."

'This Is What I Have Left'

The urn with his ashes is bronze, engraved with his image and "In Loving Memory of Jeffrey Robert Klapatch 10/24/86 - 8/3/05."

She takes it with her when she speaks to teenagers at schools and other groups, such as the Boy Scouts of America. She took it along in October to a field day where 11- through 17-year-old scouts were working on merit badges in traffic safety.

"This is what I have left. Do you want to do this to your mom?" she said.

It got their attention. So did a poster board with a blown-up color photograph of his motorcycle. Mangled and charred, it hit a tree and "became engulfed in flames," according to the official crash report.

There is a photo from Christmas 2004. Jeffrey, his mom and his older sister, Jennifer, smile and link their arms. The only boy, he was the middle of three children in the Klapatch family, named after his father.

Enlarged on another poster board are parts of the accident report, with details painful for a mother to read. "Make The Right Choice" is in big letters above.

It wasn't until she saw the report that Klapatch knew what choice she had to make.

She had gone to the Lakeland Police Department to get a copy for insurance purposes and broke down as she read it.

A clerk noticed and contacted White, who supervises traffic and special operations such as K-9 units and the SWAT team. He came out to see her.

"How are you doing?"

"I'm not doing good."

Breaking The News

It's not easy to tell a family.

There were 22 fatalities in Lakeland in 2005, a record year, and White took part in about half of the death notifications. He usually enlists the help of the department chaplain, but occasionally time doesn't allow that.

When White saw Klapatch reading the report, he took her back to his office, and they talked about the crash and her feelings. She said, "We need to do something."

White called Jack Gillen, the department's public information officer. The two talked to her about the increase in motorcycle fatalities locally and nationally. Her nursing instincts took over: She needed to stop the dying.

Now, the three are crusading to protect other young riders.

"We, as a police department, intend to keep working with this woman. We'll make her a part of open houses and other events and have her talk about motorcycle safety every chance we get," said Gillen, who is helping her arrange appearances and interviews.

Her husband and daughters are supportive but concerned that she's reopening her grief with every talk. "It won't bring him back," they tell her.

She knows. She feels that she has to keep others from making the same mistakes.

"I can't let them just die in vain, even if it's just one kid whose life is saved."

Researching The Facts

Klapatch is astonished at the many things she didn't know about motorcycles until she started researching them after her son's death.

She knew, of course, they are more dangerous than cars, partly because drivers of other vehicles often don't see them. But she didn't know the common nickname for sports bikes is "crotch rocket" or that many dealers discourage new riders from buying them. Her son bought his from a private seller and took a state-required motorcycle safety class because he was under 21.

She didn't know motorcycle-related fatalities have climbed in Florida in the past five years. She didn't know that single-vehicle crashes killed more than 38,000 motorcyclists nationwide from 1975 to 1999 and that half of those fatalities were related to negotiating a curve.

High blood-alcohol levels also are a major problem among motorcycle operators and factored into in her son's crash.

"Yes, he made mistakes. He broke the law ... he didn't deserve to die for it," she said.

She didn't know the speed capabilities of the type of bike her son bought.

"They're race bikes. They're made to go 200 miles an hour. Kids don't think of consequences," she said. They want to see how fast they can go.

Her research of her son's driving record also shocked her. He had five speeding violations from 2003 to 2005 in the cars he used before his motorcycle. He paid the tickets and took mandatory driving classes. Adjudication was withheld four times, and he had a valid driver's license when he was killed.

"He shouldn't have been able to get a motorcycle license if he can't drive safe in a car," Klapatch said.

That's a point she's taking up with state lawmakers. She's also asking them to require parental notification when drivers under 18 receive tickets.

At a meeting with Klapatch Friday, state Rep. Dennis Ross, R-Lakeland, promised to help her with parental disclosure.

Ross plans to add it to a bill he already has filed that relates to vehicle crashes and leaving the scene of an accident in which there has been an injury or death. Ross said he doesn't know of anything in the state Constitution that would prohibit parental access to teen driving records.

Ross, chairman of the House insurance committee, also is interested in passing a bill this year that would require those under 21 with motorcycles to have bodily-injury insurance. Florida is one of four states that do not require motorcycle owners to have insurance.

Dealers Group Supports Changes

Winn Peeples is a lobbyist for the Florida Motorcycle Dealers Association. He used to own a Yamaha dealership in Tallahassee. He's planning to work with Ross on developing and passing the bodily-insurance legislation.

Peeples said dealers also are supporting a proposal this year from the Florida Department of Highway Safety and Motor Vehicles to require all motorcycle riders to pass the safety course required for riders under 21.

Recent statistics show an increase in fatalities for riders older than 40, and the driving course historically has helped stem the number of fatalities.

Peeples is sympathetic to Klapatch's crusade for motorcycle safety; he just doesn't know how far laws can go.

"You don't want to cross the line where you end up legislating responsibility, particularly parental responsibility," Peeples said. On the other hand, "we certainly want to address safety."

Motorcycle Numbers Increasing

Officials with the department of highway safety don't know what's causing the number of motorcycle deaths to climb.

There are some obviousfactors, especially the sheer number of motorcycles on the road, many of them operated by first-time drivers. Frank Penela, spokesman for the department, points out that in 2004-05 there were 473,637 motorcycles on Florida roads, up from 303,887 in 2001-02.

"There's a different skill set to ride a motorcycle than to drive a car," Penela said, which is one reason the department wants all motorcycle riders to take the safety courses available in every county.

And there's the well-known problem with other drivers not seeing motorcyclists. National statistics show those drivers are at fault in nearly two-thirds of the multivehicle accidents.

The climbing cost of gasoline also is making motorcycles more attractive to consumers, and there's a recent trend toward more female riders.

Klapatch stresses all of those points when she tries to educate teenagers about the things she didn't know.

Getting Others To Listen

Jeff Klapatch works for Toyota and was transferred to Jacksonville months before his son's death. The couple kept their house in Lakeland, and Jeffrey lived there with his great-grandfather Robert F. Renda. A few nights a week Robin Klapatch was there, too, when she worked her shift at the hospital.

Seven days after Jeffrey's accident, Renda died.

"He just shut down," Robin Klapatch said. He missed his roommate and companion, she said. "He had a seizure. I said, 'Do you want to go take care of Jeffrey for me?' "

He did.

She commutes between her home in Jacksonville and her job in Lakeland, where she speaks to students. She plans to visit Lakeland-area high schools during prom season.

Christmas was especially hard. She wrote letters to Jeffrey on helium-filled balloons and sent them into the sky.

"You know what hurts the most?" she said. "If he had just listened to me and been more careful, then it wouldn't have happened."

Her goal now? To get other young people to listen.