That guy could have just stood there making fun of my sorry ass, but he didn't. The two of us were at such opposite ends of the riding spectrum, I sort of expected him to say SOMETHING derogatory or at least humorous at my expense. Much to his credit, he resisted this perfect opportunity to rub my nose in it. He and his buddies just kept fawning over the still unscratched Bagger. You know, those hardcore Rocketeers turned out to be pretty nice guys . . . Oh, that's just a prime example of Wisconsin Nice.
Out here in Cali, leather-clad strangers would also rush over to help you in such a situation.
Then they'd try to @#$& you up the #$$.