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. . . so it begs the question how'd you never break your fool neck? Huh?

Apparently the Lord had other plans. God knows I gave Him plenty of opportunities . . .

. . . like the time I overcooked it while wheeling, taking out the taillight and the rear fender in a spectacular shower of sparks and red plastic, ultimately saving it only to drop the bike while putting down the side stand . . .

. . . like the time I forgot about the upcoming corner with Keith on the back, smacking the curb dead on at full throttle, at night. I still can recall the flight through the air like Superman, the bounce off the grassy knoll, followed by more flight, then another bounce followed by lots of tumbling . . .

. . . or the time I hit the raccoon crossing the road while standing on the seat (never did find the raccoon) . . .

. . . or the time I rear-ended Gary's Challenger while eyeballing a cute blonde walking on the sidewalk, pushing the car out of the way, the bike landing upside down in a perfect three-point handlebar-tail section stance, pinning me underneath, leaking gas running down my back while I squirmed to free myself to no avail. I think I impressed her; she was laughing awfully hard . . .

. . . or the time . . . Well, you get the point.