Monday, May 18, 2009

Peace. ...and...

"Wow, poor trucker"
This was the single thought as i looked over my shoulder from the wet pavement.
My sliding slowed before i had fully crossed the highway, and muscles went into survival mode, twisting my body so it would catch and roll onto the inside shoulder out of the flow of traffic.
Stood up. Wheel stopped, engine died. Flooded? Shut off the fuel petcock. Looked 'upstream'.
"Oh Lord, please; no police."
Nobody hurt and no damaged property except my own handlebars and pride.
At a break in traffic Curious George rolled Attila the Fun to the Man with the Yellow Pickup.
He picked us up.

Now what am i here for?

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