Anyone who has known me long enough has probably figured out I'm not the most sympathetic or compassionate person to walk the earth. The word Dumbass springs from my lips far too often. I find it very hard to feel bad for someone who gets in trouble or gets hurt from doing something that is obviously stupid and ill contrived. I'll preface the rest of this post with the understanding that I love motorcycles, they're fast, they're cool but they are also not toys and like guns, are very dangerous in the hands of monkeys and children. I cannot ride motorcycles, I want to, but I know I cannot be trusted with them. Every experience I have ever had with them has not ended well, at least for the motorcycle (learning to crash is essential). Gina, who worked in Shock Trauma where they affectionately refer to them as Donor Cycles, would never permit me to own one anyway. I have friends who own and have owned them. The ones that still own them seldom ride them because it's just to dangerous with the way people drive around in their SUVs, talking on their cell phones sucking down 1200 calorie venti caramel machiattos from Starbucks to pay attention to the road long enough to see them. The ones who have sold them did so after one too many close calls and decided it just wasn't worth it.
I also believe in Darwin's theory of evolution and that only the strong will (should) survive in a normal, balanced ecosystem. Unfortunately, technology and a good health care system have derailed that theory over the last century to leave us with a not so deep gene pool. So here it is, like it or not, my story of a Dumbass who slipped through evloution's ever shrinking net.
Today was the Bay Country Century down in Owings, MD. Great day, great event everything went well and the club made some bank. On the way home coming up Rt. 97 from Annapolis, through two lanes of cars, three of Anne Arundle Co.'s finest brain donors on their crotch rockets go flying past the group of cars I was in weaving in and out of them at what was easily over 100 mph wearing nothing more than t-shirts, shorts and a helmet. Now, the act of riding a motorcycle in a law abiding fashion in and of itself is like playing Russian rulet with bullets in 5 0f the 6 chambers of the gun. Now add in the fact that they were going almost twice the speed limit weaving through traffic and you get this. Not five minutes after the trio flies past us I come upon stopped traffic where the road goes to three lanes and some exit/entrance lanes form on the right. Whatever it was it had just happened and all three lanes of 97 are stopped and traffic trying to merge on was backed up. People are pulled over on the shoulder getting out of their cars. I see one lady grabbing her medical bag from the trunk of her car. As we inch up a bit I see it, one of the donor boys laying in the middle of the right lane splayed out like a rag doll next to a mini-van with it's rear end smashed in.
Me, having absolutely no sympathy for the guy having watched him and his buddies only moments earlier, asked the guy next to me on his crotch rocket if that was his buddy they were about to scrape up off the pavement, and if so could help as traffic was starting to get really backed up. From his response it obviously wasn't his friend which was odd, because there were three of them and the other two were no where to be seen. They didn't even stop to help their friend, probably because they were to worried about the overwhelming number of traffic violations they would receive after hearing witness reports. But lucky for them, unless their buddy wakes up (if he survives) and recovers from this, they probably won't get caught. Lucky for them, eh? Sorry for no pictures, I would have taken a some shots but traffic started to move.
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