Doh!
There are probably some things that should never be owned up to. This may be one of those…
Encouraged by yesterday’s successful two-up outing to visit friends’ six-week-old donkey colt at Manakau (the one south of Levin), Mrs H and I decided this morning to head off for another ride. The wind was easing and the cloud was starting to burn off. The prospect of a most pleasant motorcycling day dawned. Coffee and lunch at the Fish sounded like a good idea.
Traffic was light and well behaved.
We pulled up in the right-hand lane at the Maungaraki lights behind a Toyota Hiace van. To our left was one of those classic Daimler/Jaguar Mark-something things containing a 60-odd woman driver, in a hat (Danger, Will Robinson), texting. The lights changed to green, and our texting Jag driver moved forwards taking no notice of the road ahead or the world outside her vehicle. As her window was down, I decided to offer some advice:
“Put that bloody phone away, before you cause an accident!” I said, loudly, with righteous moral indignation dripping from my helmeted voice.
I then looked up to see that the Hiace hadn’t moved away with quite the vigour I had expected. Too late, my front wheel touches his bumper. Firmly.
Bike drops to ground, dropping Mrs H onto her recently-bruised left shoulder. Sigh. Unvoiced expletive.
Mrs H walks to the median barrier clutching her arm. I stand up the bike then go and help her remove her helmet and jacket.
Nice Couple in Subaru Legacy on their way to the Masterton air show stop to impress upon their wide-eyed children the inherent dangers of motorcycling and to give Mrs H a cold softdrink and sympathy.
I return to the ST, start it up and ride it up onto the median. I walk around it and do a damage assessment. It is unmarked! The same can’t be said for a black XXL Shoei XR1000.
Meanwhile texting Jaguar gran has stopped on the other side of the motorway and is still busy with her phone. I suspect she may have taken a photograph of us and sent it to her contacts list. The evidence of her cellular activities soon emerged. She is the goddess of goodness, the queen of the highway, the A&E pursuivant. I suspect that by now she will have sent a couple of hundred texts explaining all of this to everyone she knows. All done whilst driving her classic Jaguar. This woman is a saint, an example to us all.
Minutes later, the first of three Police cars, an ambulance and a fire engine arrive. Each with sufficient interval for me to relive my shame several times over. The Hiace driver had also stopped and came back over. He said he had felt a slight nudge. I told him he had done nothing wrong.
Nothing to see here folks. Move along!
Mrs H says she still loves me. Having recently engaged in a monumental piece of carelessness and taken a significant liberty with her well-being I wonder why.
She says she is very impressed with my power of prophecy and now wants to know what the full range of my recently-acquired seer powers are…
I am still cross with myself. Nothing hurts more than falling from one’s “high horse”. Pride went simultaneously with the fall this morning.
Today’s “duty god” is the god of cellphones. Be warned!
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