Some old ridin' buddies went on a poker run today. They met for breakfast at Cracker Barrel in Lexington, then on to Midway for their meet up.
I was invited. I didn't go. We not exactly, "didn't go"; I met 'em for breakfast and rode with 'em to the meet up.
A couple of these guys have been faithful riding buddies for many years, and leaving them with the poker run organizers I felt like I was abandoning them to a nursing home. What can ya' do?! I talked until I'm blue in the face, but they are beguiled by the flatulent, toothless pachyderm. So, abandon them I did, lest I fall along side them into the morass of fatman's whimsy where reason may not reach and from which there is no salvation.
UPDATE:
I heard back from one of the old-folks. It seems one of the harley ridiers t-boned a roadside tree. From the description it sounds like another Harley rider 30 mph freeze-up. Popped over a hill, saw a curve and a driveway equipped with optional 16" ( " means inches, SB) diameter tree and fixed his paniced gaze upon the tree. You know the rule, look where you want to go. He looked, He went.
Bike is wrecked. Head is bashed, brain is scrambled (it was before) since he wore no helmet. I am told he had no idea where he was, what he was doing, what day it was, or how he got there. He was alive when they hauled him off, though his breathing was laboured and he was wheezing badly.
He sure looked cool w/o his helmet on. Bet his family will think he's cool, too, when they have to wipe his ass because he shits himself now.
Ride safe y'all. And ATGATT; You're worth the trouble.
JACIII
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