Just another dumb-ass yuppie in search of authenticity
"In some ways, what a way to go."True, dat. In all the ways it can mean...
My point exactly! Celts do not belong on motorcycles, as this news item clearly shows. Mr. Parsons would been much better off had he bought a dragon from the local wizard, and rode that through the Vale of Glamorgan, rather than a motorcycle.And don't even try to tell me that Jingo is not a Celtic surname. I grew up down the street from the MacJingo family, and you have never seen a prouder brood of Highlanders this side of the Atlantic.Get rid of that motorcycle before it is too late, Neddie!
two things: "He went out doing something that he had wanted to do for so many years."...for so many years...Am I the only one hearing echoes of Sgt Pepper's? And then the Range Rover driver: "I didn't have a chance." YOU didn't have a chance? Whattabout the goddamn geezer on the motorbike? Arse. Clearly, in the US this guy would've been in one of the Very Large Sub-urban Ugly Vehicles. Probably an Escalade. Like I said, Neddie, it's the Other Guy you gotta watch out for. Heart attacks can be dealt with. Being run over, less so.
Just don't wobble, Jeddie.Aw. Poor old guy.
That whole story should be required reading for all wives, incorporated somehow into the wedding vows from this day forward.Still bikeless,-PH
God, you people amuse me!I love y'all, thrush me on that score, but your concern for my safety is MISPLACED.It's not like I'm gonna drive this fucking thing off some bridge over the Chesapeake, in some fit of romantic excess. I have absolutely no desire to die! I've been "practicing" as I drive my truck, pretending it's that TR6, and in three weeks no situation has presented itself that I couldn't deal with. I drive on country roads! I WILL DRIVE THIS BIKE AT THE SPEED LIMIT and no faster!I am not that blistering idiot I watched yesterday straddling lanes on Rte. 7 with his crotch-rocket in order to arrive at his destination a whopping two minutes before the rest of us; I am content to occupy my own rightful space in the traffic queue until my turn arrives. And if Mr. Parsons had practiced on his lawn, as I intend to do before I actually try to drive the thing on the roads, getting used to the clutch and the brakes and so forth, I imagine he'd still be with us today.
Jingo is a fine old Norman name, and oui d'on d'il ouith no fucking Quelts. Nous avons des peuples tu dils avec ça. Pheuquing paisants. Oui drivent notres motocyclettes comment Monsieur T. E. Lawrence, qui nous regardent comment un héro pour dashing leurs brains out avec un motocyclette Triumphe sans helmette. Quel idiot!
crotch-rocket=donor-rocketJeddie, just be careful and shut up.
"Shut up" was said with the utmost affection.
I guess all of y'all are gonna have real saracstic shit to say at my funeral -- in 2040 (2050 if I give up smoking).
Jiminy, look at Mrs. Parsons. John probably would've died of excitement soaping his navel.
Just out of idle curiosity, what is Wonder Woman's take on your Brando-esque mid-life pursuit?As one who has been up on two wheels before, watch that gravel on Stephens Road, Neddie; it'll getcha fer sure! Pure pavement or pure dirt are the best places to ride. I prefer to do it in the dirt.
It's not just about not being stupid. My Honda Twin from my grad school years taught me that a bike is not just a nearly invisible small car with no seatbelts or bumpers, but also a device with narrow input tolerances when it comes to the road surface. Train tracks that cross diagonally, ruts, bumps and potholes, wet leaves and loose gravel, puddles on corners can all do you in. Oh, and parking lots are death traps.But don't mistake me for a complete candy-ass. I sometimes used to drive that bike to school in the snow.
I prefer to do it in the dirt.Fascinatingly, so does Wonder Woman....She's cool with the bike, but I have to give up smoking -- something I'd intended to do anyway. And I have to take the safety training course this weekend at NOVA Community College in Sterling. Also something I'm cool with.None of those things on my ride to work, QRED. Almost all of it is winding and mostly deserted country lanes. And at the first hint of rain, snow, wet leaves, etc., she goes in the garage.
From an article in Sunday's Chicago Trib:MOTORCYCLE DEATHS UP 8 YEARS IN A ROW47% WERE OVER AGE 40
Poor Jeddie Ningo will never admit anything to us ever again.You're not getting that Red Ryder BB Gun! You'll shoot your eye out!
Haven't ridden in a while, but I did quit smoking after 35 years. Advice - pick a long weekend, stock the refrigerator so you don't have to leave the house, and pretend you're just having a particularly long and unpleasant hangover. And don't drink alcohol for at least 3 months. And tell your friends to expect some short term behavioral changes (as in crazier than a shithouse rat).
you know, Neddie, after hearing all the comments, I'm starting to think they're right.So when that delivery truck shows up with Death On Two Wheels, you just whip out that checkbook, pay the additional shipping charges, and have that Bad Boy trucked the rest of the way to me.I'll make sure it doesn't cause YOU any trouble...
Quitting smoking: Did it once in 1995; was stupid enough to take it back up again last year when my hip went south on me. I figured, If I'm on a long, slow decline into senscence and death, why not do it with some pleasure? Nicorette did a marvelous job that time; I'm sure it'll do fine again.Jennifer, sweet Jennifer!Thank you, thank you for providing us with a marvelous example of How to Lie with Statistics!!!Not to put you on the spot, but can anyone explain what two numbers are missing from the headline so that we can't actually make an intelligent interpretation of those numbers?Class?
I WILL DRIVE THIS BIKE AT THE SPEED LIMIT and no faster!That one was for your Mom, right?
The first time you go 60, it seems like 100. Soon, 100 will seem like 30.Never forget that you are invisible to many car drivers. This fact is multiplied if you are riding much faster than the speed limit. Listen to the bell in the back of your skull that rings if you are overriding yourself. Alcohol, medications, and fatigue turn off that bell.Despite all this, I'm still enjoying every ride.
It's not my job to explain, it's merely my job to scare! I'm a mother, god dammit!!! Wow! I felt like Charlatan Heston for a moment!If my weary brain had to guess, I would suppose they would need to include how many motorcycles were on the road. Even though deaths were up, if there were 5x more motorcycles on the road, deaths would be down in the bigger picture. Do I at least get a pat on the head for that, Prof Jingo??? I hated stats.
Jesus Christ on a crutch...don't listen to these supposed concerned citizens. If you want to get the freakin' bike, get it. Get it and ride it and devil take the hindmost. The only other opinion that counts is Mrs. Neddie's. And even then, you have veto power (it is YOUR life and safety).Your's is the sort of attitude that needs to be applauded and supported, not questioned and criticized.I am willing to bet that the same people who beseech you to avert your eyes from the horrible temptation of the demon speed each have their own demon temptations. Maybe if they jumped on those temptations and learned how to tame them, their lives would be the better for it. If they fail...so be it.At 57, I am just realizing that I failed to tackle some demons earlier in my life when I was more energized and focused. However, that is not preventing me from doing so now.Fare thee well.
Amen, Cope. A-effin'-men.That scared thinkin' is what kept me from having my nun threesome for WAY TOO MANY YEARS.
If that pore ole geezer croaked out of ecstasy at mounting a 125cc Honda, then clearly his time was up; if not that, a pretty gel in a sundress would have winked at him and given him the apoplexy.
If you were able to choose an exit strategy, might not be a bad way to go, no?
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