Late one night Chris and I were racing to the late night coffee shop. He's on his big old cruiser flying past and fails to slow for the giant cobble stone round about ahead. I only laugh now, but at the time I lost my shit. He hits this thing, gets his million pounds of metal airborne, sideways, and manages to the land the thing without even so much as a chipped ankle. I pull up after the spark show of steal on gravel, run over to the guy and he's lying on the ground like he wanted to be there. Dusted himself off, he saw the incident as merely a test for his kevlar jeans, and got a coffee.
The event apparently gave a passing stoner a conniption.
Usually when a guy comes off he rarely gets back on. Old mate Chris has been down the road the wrong way a few times but this guy puts more miles on than a truckie on ritalin...
It's not all about bills, taxes, rent and the news. It's still ok to play and get dirty, just don't tell your parents...
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