I think the most dangerous part of not wearing a helmet it all the stones that will end up in your face. My visor has saved me many times before from getting stoned.![]()
I think the most dangerous part of not wearing a helmet it all the stones that will end up in your face. My visor has saved me many times before from getting stoned.![]()
Cats land on their feet. Toast lands jamside down.
A cat glued to some jam toast will hover in quantum indecision
Curiosity was framed; ignorance killed the cat
Fix a computer and it'll break tomorrow.
Teach its owner to fix it and it'll break in some way you've never seen before.
'We all know the consequences of being hit with no gear at all'.
All to well for people in your work arena Sharry.
YT/Mom served time as Nurses and speak from 'what they have seen' when they talk on this very issue.
You can only say so much, there will always be the exception to the many.
Excelent, now that saves firefightter one hell of a task![]()
Ditto my other half,she has dealt with kids/teens and adults within funeral industry,has told a few nasty stories of people hit on open roads,hat or no hat didn't matter much for the kids on pushbikes when hit at 80km by a truck.Pretty traumatic for family and those involved,i.e police,ambos,fireys and funeral staff.
Hello officer put it on my tab
Don't steal the government hates competition.
Horace
Much to his Mum and Dad's dismay
Horace ate himself one day.
He didn't stop to say his grace,
He just sat down and ate his face.
"We can't have this his Dad declared,
"If that lad's ate, he should be shared."
But even as he spoke they saw
Horace eating more and more:
First his legs and then his thighs,
His arms, his nose, his hair, his eyes...
"Stop him someone!" Mother cried
"Those eyeballs would be better fried!"
But all too late, for they were gone,
And he had started on his dong...
"Oh! foolish child!" the father mourns
"You could have deep-fried that with prawns,
Some parsley and some tartar sauce..."
But H. was on his second course:
His liver and his lights and lung,
His ears, his neck, his chin, his tongue;
"To think I raised him from the cot
And now he's going to scoff the lot!"
His Mother cried: "What shall we do?
What's left won't even make a stew..."
And as she wept, her son was seen
To eat his head, his heart, his spleen.
And there he lay: a boy no more,
Just a stomach, on the floor...
None the less, since it was his
They ate it – that's what haggis is.
Can't recall the year but not long ago, maybe the 70s ( the 70s is all sort if an overlapping blur to me so it could have been) . Well after I started riding anyway cos I rode for years without one , we all did. Wearing a crash helmet was a certain recipe to get a ticket, cops regarded it as proof you were racing.
Originally Posted by skidmark
Originally Posted by Phil Vincent
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