No Motorcycles For Me, Please
Yesterday morning, while waiting at the bus stop, I watched some dude wipe out hard on his
motorcycle donorcycle. I was just standing at the stop, minding my own business, mildly irritated that someone didn’t pick up the present left by their dog at the stop. Then I looked up to my left and saw a guy on a yellow motorcycle (not a Harley Davidson, one of those speed demon type bikes) getting ready to take a left turn out of an apartment complex. The ground was a little wet from the previous night’s rain, but I wasn’t really thinking about that–and apparrantly neither was he.
As he began to make his left turn, he gave the bike a little too much gas. At first I thought he was just trying to show off, but then I watched as his bike swerved quickly back and forth followed by him falling on his right side with his bike landing on his right leg. I was mortified at the sight and didn’t really know what to do.
I ran over to where he was (he probably wasn’t more than 200 ft from where I was) to see if he was ok. By the time I got to him he was standing up on his own but limping and in some obvious pain. I was about to call an ambulance when a woman in scrubs pulled over to help. I didn’t speak to her but I assumed that she was either a doctor or a nurse and she began to examine him to see if he was alright.
I walked back to the bus stop, slightly shaken. I’ve seen in my forensic pathology course the kinds of injuries people sustain in motorcycle accidents, but it didn’t really phase me until I saw this guy eat the pavement. All I could really think of was that my father really really wants a motorcycle and he’ll probably buy one within the year. I hope he changes his mind.