Dec 3, 2004

The next time

someone sees me in full cycling regalia, helmet in hand, and asks "Oh, do you ride a motorcycle?" I'm going to have to insert my helmet in a very uncomfortable and unlikely place. No handing out of signs, no gentle smiles and nods, just wildly improbable insertion.

Leaving work yesterday, a guy of indeterminate age pulled the above stunt on me, and not wanting to lose my helmet until post-operative procedures, played along with the sap. What ensued was twelve minutes of him telling me about wrecks he's been involved in, wrecks his kid was involved in (moron tried to learn how to ride on a 700 pound 1100 V-twin) and wrecks that friends of his got into and either did or didn't survive. He went on to regale me, Ancient Mariner-like, about his years in law enforcement, being offered at retirement a Harley-Fergusson Police Special, and how he would never ride again, having (everyone now) wrecked a bike when he was young.

Wow. I had no idea these things were so dangerous! What was I thinking! I'll go and trade my rolling ball of death for something with less soul and fun, like a Ford Tarus, or maybe even one of those ultra-hot Mini Coopers, those are all the rage, and I hear it takes at least a 45 mph wind to blow one upside down.

Or maybe I could buy a Civic and spend thousands and thousands of dollars making it LOOK like it goes really fast, and in truth just making it annoyingly coloured, chain-saw sounding, and bass-heavy. Oh, and for all those moronic little children who like to put the big spoilers on the back deck of your car? Hey, milquetoast, a spoiler makes aerodynamic force push DOWNWARDS. You've got a front-wheel drive car, so the faster you go, the more the wind pushes your BACK END down, which makes the front end ride UP. Remember the front end? The bit with the drivetrain and the STEERING? I'd certainly want that part up maintaining the least tenuous hold on the asphalt if I were travelling at high speeds.


It's one of those days where I'm so fed up with stupidity that I could climb a water tower. Fortuntately there's only one more day of work, then two off, xmas preparations with the family to look forward to, the picking out of the tree and the trimming and the decorating and all, the wonderful smells of cooking and the tree in the house, and yes, spending gobs of money that I don't really have but what the hell, eh?

Ah well. Tempus Fugits and all that. Must fly. On my MOTORCYCLE. In the DARK. With only about a grand in safety gear on my back and skull. And my training.


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