(Crotch Rocket Crash)
I really hated the "I told you so" portion of the summer. (Please note now that I'm fine, no serious injuries, and no regrets.) And while those who were anti-motorcycle probably feel justified in their mistrusting attitudes, I plea that a gravel patch, is a gravel patch, is a gravel patch.
But here's the deal.
The Green Machine, may she rest in peace, is totaled.
Yes, I purchased the crotch rocket in May and destroyed her in June.
Meh, life happens.
And though embarrassing as it may be, I totaled that poor bike in a parking lot. When I hit a parked truck.
Yes, I am stupid. Thank you for noticing.
But as I said before, a gravel patch, is a gravel patch, is a gravel patch.
I was scared to death to tell my mother, because Moson has been through an awful lot as it is, and I thought it better for her to be spared the knowing of my wreck as long as possible. I'm too old to be "in trouble" per say, but honestly I just didn't want her heart to sink, or to think I was hurt. I wanted her to see with her own eyes that I am fine.
So I waited until after our family vacation to Michigan, on the Sunday afternoon before I had to get back in the car and drive to Canyon.
I was playing with nephew on Moson's living room floor. He'd pulled out all my old toys and we were examining them and I was showing him how some of them worked, and just being overall remarkably cute.
My mom stood in the doorway, and said "This is just the sweetest thing I've ever seen."
"This is sweet." I said, "By the way I've been looking for a good time to tell you...."
My mom deserves a high seat in heaven for all the hell we've put her through here on earth.
Be Nice to Your Mom.
Watch out for Gravel.
Please check out Craig's List if you're interested in some slightly used motorcycle parts.
