From: Al
Date: Monday, September 29, 2003 5:51 PM
Subject: [Desert] Al and Sally's Bogus Sunday
First the short story for Bob and Eddy: nobody got laid.
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So let me tell you about yesterday. Sally and I go riding at a place called 5 mile pass - the weather could
not be better - perfect temps, just a hint of breeze so the dust isn't a huge issue, trails are the usual
rocky or silty piece of crap that we get in our desert climate. The morning is awesome - Sally gets stuffed
in minor ways on a couple of the rocky traction-free yet lengthy hill climbs and on the one hill that is the
hardest one I can actually get up (there are a few others that I've never even come close to topping yet) I
actually play superman for about 10 microseconds as I fly over the handle bars and land on a huge flat rock -
thanks to the camelback cushioning my spine - I got up without incident and actually made it on the 2nd
run.
At lunch I noticed that the right rear tire on my trailer was pretty low - hmm - Sally pumped it up and we
went riding. We climbed some really shitty hills and went down some scree slopes that left definite doubt
as to who was driving and what the final outcome might be - no problem. Then on an easy sandy dirt road in the valley
I stop at some point - no Sally - hmm it's been too long so I better go check it out - I go back and there's
Sally laying face down in the trail with the bike still running and on top of her boot - the knobbies going -
chunk a chunk a chunk a chunk on her boot. Evidence looks like washing out in a turn and high siding - subsequent
operator interview is inconclusive since Sally is out of it. So I grab the bike off her and shut it off - it's then clear that
something is seriously wrong - Sally's still conscious but it looks like either a broken arm or dislocated shoulder
or something. I tried to get Sally up but had a bit of a problem since every time I touched her she screamed in agony -
it sort of reminded me of high school come to think of it. Anyway we finally go for it and get her in a sitting
position but she can't stand up - at which point I'm going "Oh fuck - what else is screwed up". After awhile we
go through the usual drill that happens when you've biffed seriously 10 miles from the truck - e.g. can you ride?
Sally says she doesn't think she can use the front brake (the problem is the right arm) at which point I ask - well
what about the throttle - at which point she says "Oh - nope I couldn't use that either" - at this point it's pretty
clear that I'm on the way to the truck. Sally has enough water the chances that anybody will randomly find her in
the next month is pretty much zero but she's going to be OK for an hour or so IF I can find this fucking place again.
Then the next phase begins - with a roll of toilet paper as my trail marking device - I start TPing random bits
of sagebrush and creosote bushes at various intersections so there is a chance I might actually find Sally again
and not have to call for the search and rescue nut cases who will probably run over her in their testosterone
poisoned 4x4's. I could also get arrested for littering and the whole Alice's Restaurant song starts playing
in my head. I make it back to the truck, quickly toss my stuff in the back, load my bike on the trailer - take
a quick look at the right trailer tire - it looks OK - time to haul ass. I then have fun driving like a complete idiot
on the dirt roads - hey I'm in a hurry so it must be OK. The first problem is that I manage to create so much dust
that I fail to read my TP trail correctly and end up in a spot that I know is wrong but I manage to have 2 correct
neuron synapses in a row (Eddy - if you've read this far don't worry about it) - which is a personal record and I'm rewarded
by finding TP on a bush with no stink pickles attached. Ha - I'm back on track - yippee. I get as close as
I can to Sally with the trailer so I jump out and unhook it and go get her. She's still upright which is a good
sign and has managed to get her helmet off, as well as her elbow pads. I'm thinking yahoo - if she can get her
elbow pads off then maybe her arm isn't broken but the shoulder is probably fucked up - not sure whether that's
better or worse. It's about at this time I notice Sally's right eye is purple and rapidly swelling shut - kinky.
It's a bit of an epic getting her up - she finally decides I need to grab her under her breasts and pull her to her
feat - this most definitely was not like high school. Whatever, she's loaded and groaning over most bumps.
I get back to the trailer, hook it up, run back to her bike about .5 miles away and ride it back. I notice a few things wrong
with the bike. The Renthal bars are bent, the hand guard is the Acerbis kind with the aluminum bar in it - it's pretty
much a pretzl, and the kick starter sticks at the bottom of the stroke on every kick which makes starting the
fucker an issue. In looking at the cause - the dweeby foot peg is bent a bit but the real problem is the beefy casting
that holds the foot peg is bent too - hence it catches the kick starter at the bottom of the stroke. This one isn't
field fixable - so I cuss a lot and finally get the fucker started - kick down - pull kick starter back up - kick down -
say fuck 12 times - pull kick starter back up ...... After a bit it starts and I head back to the truck and load
Sally's bike.
Sally decides the hospital she wants to go to is the University hospital in Salt Lake - that's about an hour away
once we hit the pavement. The next 45 minutes is going slow, listening to Sally groan over the bumps and
whoops and washboard. I notice it sure seems a lot rougher than when I drove through earlier like a bat out
of hell. Finally we hit the oil road. About 4 miles or so later a truck pulls up to pass and paces me at the
side - I look over and the guy points to the trailer with a VERY PUZZLED expression on his face. So I pull over,
and take a look - oops my bike is leaning a bit too much to the right - that must be the problem but it sure
didn't look like an emergency. I reset the bike and then notice - the whole fucking trailer looks tilted to the
right. It was then I first noticed the 2 parallel white scratch marks on the road that ended at the rim of my
right trailer wheel. Yep - no tire just a well worn rim. The good thing is I don't have to repair that slow leak
cause I have no idea when the tire came off in the first place - my guess is while I was whooping it up hauling ass
in the truck going to rescue Sally it probably was under inflated and decided to escape.
Change the tire - I do have to wonder what nitwit made this spare tire holder so that the lug nuts for the trailer are
different than the nut size for the spare - I know the answer of course but it dawns on me that I'm not happy about
it. But we're rolling again and as I drive off I notice my bike is now leaning to the left - doh! Fuck it.
Then we get stuck in traffic - Sally says she might barf and I start thinking "OK but into what?" - I figure I have this
big coffee cup - fortunately she just makes nervous making burping sounds until we finally get to the hospital. Then it's
the usual wait a bit but not bad, they take her and I drive to Kurt's house to unload Sally's bike and drink - Kurt's not
home but I know where Fumiko keeps her whiskey. Let's just say I owe Fumiko. I later find out that I forgot to put the
front tire keeper pin in place when I took Sally's bike off the trailer - I now have a nice self-made aluminum one.
4 hours later after I've called Glen and yacked, gone to the office, did a cameo at a social event, I decide - fuck nobody has called yet I
might as well go to the hospital and ask. I get there and the cell phone goes off in the parking lot - she's ready.
The result is that Sally dislocated her shoulder, has a really great shiner, and got to experience the wonders of morphine.
She also now has a legal supply of pain killers to sell on the black market to pay for bike repairs.
It was just one of those days.
al
12 Feb 2006