So. Today I was noodling my way up the Spars. As I turn to summit MP 305 I see a collection of vehicles and people standing around on the side of the road.
Honestly, how do people manage to crash into the side of a mountain when going uphill?!
Today's lucky winner is a fellow who said, when I asked how did it happen: "I dunno. It just turned on it's own into the dirt."
On it's own. His motorcycle "turned on it's own."
Is that a hallucination? Something to do with God on Sunday? Evil spirits? Bad joo-joo?
Reminds me of when I was changing one of my son's diapers years ago. "Ooh. Who pooped in your pants?" "Uhhh. I dunno?"
So. I asked the (surviving) motorcyclist: "Your head is bleeding. Did the EMT's look at that?"
HIM: "Nah. `m'alright."
ME: "Did your helmet take the brunt of the hit?"
HIM: "What helmet?"
Several miles later I come across another motorcyclist on the side of the road. His motorcycle is half on and half off the road. He sees me and walks my way so I stop. He's wearing what looks like a Gucci `Outlaw Biker' leather vest and a faux dirty headband. The vest doesn't quite cover his drooping belly in his "Harley Davidson" $75 t-shirt.
ME: "You o.k.?"
HIM: "Oh yah. I'm fine."
ME: "Can I help?"
HIM: "You got some gas?" "Ha." "Ha."
ME: (Pregnant extended silence as I stare at him) "Gas?"
HIM: "Yah. I just run outta gas."
ME: (A certain incredulous look on my face). "Umm. Uh. No. But I got half a Power Bar. You want that?" (Get it? Power bar?)
HIM: (Ignoring my offer). "How you ride that thing? Looks real uncomfortable."
ME: (Still incredulous look) "Umm. I'm o.k."
A motorcycle.
He's out of gas.
On a hill.
I know I shouldn't have said this but ....
ME: (Attempting to be humorous): "For the right money I'll give you a pull."
HIM: "Ha."