07-06-2007, 08:36 AM
Conjure up in your head a turn lane. A right hand turn lane, the kind you can turn right on red at. It leads from a rather busy two lane road on to an even busier four lane road. Idylwood and Gallows, to be exact. So I'm sitting there on my little Honda motorbike waiting to turn... and so is the guy in a big white SUV behind me.... what is it with white SUV's and traffic incidences, anyway? OJ wasn't driving. I'm keeping an eye on traffic, waiting to filter in and wouldn't you know it? The SUV driver, lets call him Frank since I'll need to reference him a couple times, was doing the same thing. For the record, Frank's real name isn't Frank, I don't know what it is. Please don't hunt down men named Frank with white SUV's in NOVA and give them trouble... for all I know his name could be Frank, but that would sure be a funny coincidence. For a morning commute everything seems pretty normal... it looks like it'll be another day of lots of normal at the office.
Oh, I didn't mention. Frank was waiting for his turn to filter in as if I wasn't there! He's paying attention to traffic, preparing to gas up and filter in. I'm paying attention to traffic as well and out of the corner of my eye I can see him getting closer and closer to my rear tire. Eventually I think he's too close and I give a shout. He doesn't hear me and keeps inching forward. The next idea I get is top on every motorcyclist's list of things to down when cagers act up: I gave his bumper a good kick. The idea was to get the guy's attention, not really screw his stuff up, and I figure denting up his cherry SUV might just do the trick. No such luck, Frank is still off in la-la land. At this point his rear bump presses up against my tire and the fuse blows in my head. Now bear in mind that I can't go forward because the traffic in front of me won't allow it, I can't go backwards because Frank is chilling there, and the sideways escape routes lead to hard objects before they lead out of Frank's way. So I really wind up and kick his bumper so hard that my foot hurts just at the same moment that my license plate folds up. Frank snaps back to reality.
I put my side stand down, an act that's kind of pointless now that the sandwhich Frank made is holding my bike up for me, and get off the bike. Frank gets out and I survey the damage to the bike... I don't have any clue if his SUV got damaged, but then again I don't really care. The only casualty is my license plate, I can live with that. Frank was incredibly apologetic and more shaken up by the whole mess than I was. I tell him it's OK, nobody's hurt, after all and he insists that it's not OK at all: "I could have really fucked your shit up!" Well... yes, but he didn't, I tell him, and after giving everything a once over there's really not much point in making a big to do about it. I think twice about intentionally getting the Police to come to me these days and there was no damage that an insurance company would have paid out for (what, give me a new license plate?). So, I let it go, unwedged my bike, and went on my merry. Quickly.
Oops.
Quick isn't the way things work in VA anymore... remember those new traffic penalties? Sorry, Goodspeed, the cops aren't being less nitpicky. They're being worse, much worse. And who do I gas it throgh the first couple gears in front of as I pull out? You guessed it, Virginia's finest!
No, I didn't get a ticket.... but that's a heart stopper.
Oh, I didn't mention. Frank was waiting for his turn to filter in as if I wasn't there! He's paying attention to traffic, preparing to gas up and filter in. I'm paying attention to traffic as well and out of the corner of my eye I can see him getting closer and closer to my rear tire. Eventually I think he's too close and I give a shout. He doesn't hear me and keeps inching forward. The next idea I get is top on every motorcyclist's list of things to down when cagers act up: I gave his bumper a good kick. The idea was to get the guy's attention, not really screw his stuff up, and I figure denting up his cherry SUV might just do the trick. No such luck, Frank is still off in la-la land. At this point his rear bump presses up against my tire and the fuse blows in my head. Now bear in mind that I can't go forward because the traffic in front of me won't allow it, I can't go backwards because Frank is chilling there, and the sideways escape routes lead to hard objects before they lead out of Frank's way. So I really wind up and kick his bumper so hard that my foot hurts just at the same moment that my license plate folds up. Frank snaps back to reality.
I put my side stand down, an act that's kind of pointless now that the sandwhich Frank made is holding my bike up for me, and get off the bike. Frank gets out and I survey the damage to the bike... I don't have any clue if his SUV got damaged, but then again I don't really care. The only casualty is my license plate, I can live with that. Frank was incredibly apologetic and more shaken up by the whole mess than I was. I tell him it's OK, nobody's hurt, after all and he insists that it's not OK at all: "I could have really fucked your shit up!" Well... yes, but he didn't, I tell him, and after giving everything a once over there's really not much point in making a big to do about it. I think twice about intentionally getting the Police to come to me these days and there was no damage that an insurance company would have paid out for (what, give me a new license plate?). So, I let it go, unwedged my bike, and went on my merry. Quickly.
Oops.
Quick isn't the way things work in VA anymore... remember those new traffic penalties? Sorry, Goodspeed, the cops aren't being less nitpicky. They're being worse, much worse. And who do I gas it throgh the first couple gears in front of as I pull out? You guessed it, Virginia's finest!
No, I didn't get a ticket.... but that's a heart stopper.
When it comes to Ryan Jenkins, the story ends with me putting him in the wall.
2009 Speed Triple | 2006 DR-Z400SM | 1999 CBR600F4 | 1998 Jeep Cherokee
-Ginger
2009 Speed Triple | 2006 DR-Z400SM | 1999 CBR600F4 | 1998 Jeep Cherokee
-Ginger
