And the world continues to turn…
Christine crahsed yesterday afternoon on a group ride. Not good. Not bad, as in ‘really bad,’ but not good. Everything is still attached. Cracked bone in her wrist, bumps, bruises and the SV needs umm… a bit of work.
I got the call to provide shuttle service. I had been invited on that ride and chose to stay home and relax. My ear is in really bad shape so the idea of riding 250 miles with a bunch of people I don’t know didn’t sound like fun. She crashed out in the coastal range about 1 hour 45 minutes from my place. The directions really sucked but I knew that before I even left my place. I did a little work and figured out where they were and headed out.
I found them, standing by the side of the road. Tonys, Z was sitting there nice and clean. Christine’s SV650 was a mess. Not front brake lever, all of hte body work is damaged. ALL of it. Shattered windscreen. Pair of dents in the tank. On and on… Chris was standing there, telling me to go ahead and start with the jokes. I didn’t have much to say. I do this shit every year, so what comments can I make? Chris had her wrist in a splint and Tony wouldn’t leave her alone, so there they were. We loaded Chris up into my truck, turned up the heated seats, and loaded her bike in the back. Tony bitched that I didn’t have the right tie-downs. Umm “The bike’s kind of fucked anyway, what’s it gonna matter?” (If you really don’t like it, give me something better. Until such time, shut the fuck up.) Over hill and dale, I drove us back into Portland while TOny rode. ER, X-rays, blah, blah, blah. She was in and out in under two hours.
Last night, she was in good spirits, walking around, cracking jokes, etc. Today, I would imaging she cringes every 30 seconds. Such is the life of a moto rider.
And just think, for a change… It wasn’t me!
