Kudos to Miguel at Gun Free Zone for the title, I could not think of a better one.
Our friend and fellow blogger Borepatch was on a motorcycle trip to Florida and met up with bad roadway, and broke some bones.
You can read an update on his condition here.
I wish him all the best, and I have corresponded with him and told him so. My prayers are with him.
I write this here, not to chastise anyone, but to share . . .
I am reminded of the weekend before I turned 16. My father, a consulting forensic engineer, took me to a junk yard and showed me some vehicles. Two had been driven and crashed by drunk drivers. One of them had a broken windshield and blood on the hood.
On the hood.
The driver had been the sole occupant, and had not survived.
He also showed me two motorcycles. One was still wrapped up in the front end of a pickup truck. The other was just mangled, and the rider had merely laid it down on a clear road, because of a gust of wind.
Neither rider had survived.
The trip worked. The lessons were clear: drinking and driving will get you killed, and motorcycles against anything, lose. I have never driven after drinking, and I have never ridden a motorcycle.