Tuesday, November 18, 2008
I went sailing.
In February & March of 1978, I sailed without and engine from Catoosa Oklahoma to the Mississippi River. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The journey.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Monday, October 20, 2008
Adventure, Terror in Retrospect
It was 8:45 PM on Wednesday, October 30, 1996. Location: Tulsa, OK. 27th & Yale. I was traveling sedately North bound in the right hand (east) lane of Yale while a young lady in a 86 Grand Am was stopped on 27th on the west side of Yale facing east. I noticed the car as l approached the intersection and since there were no other vehicles besides that one on 27th within a block of me, and it was obviously waiting for me to get clear before it came out, I returned my attention to the front.
Have I been clear enough, detailed enough so far? OK, good.
Now things start to really happen.
The car lunges towards me as if it doesn't see me, nor apparently do they hear Spot. It seems obvious to me that I need to CHARGE like Hell to the rear but the laws of physics are not repealed despite my ardent wish to the contrary, so I start the next best thing, taking the bike down. The car hesitates just enough that I see that I won't have to go down but should be able to get clear. Meanwhile in the car the 16-year-old passenger says to the 18-year-old driver something along the lines of, “don't see...eek...guy...motorcycle...eek!” I see the car hesitate and swerve. Being 18 years old, the driver, 1/100th of a nano-second later, determines that the correct course of action is to floor it so as to clear across the intersection that I'm already in. Alas, the laws of physics were not repealed for her either.
Possibly you have heard of some of these old sayings: oil & water don't mix; two into one and you're done; two wrongs don't make a right; etc. Well, what I remember thinking was along these lines: OH SHIT...GOT TO GO DOWN...NO, WAIT, WE'RE GOING TO CLEAR – YIPES...SHE'S GOING FASTER, THIS AIN'T GOING TO WORK... Please Mr. Custer, I don't want to go!...OH WELL IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT'S GOING TO TOO BAD.... OH ,OH, THE FRONT WHEEL IS FOLDING UP....WELL MAYBE THIS IS GOING TO BE A LITTLE WORSE THAN I THOUGHT – OH SHIT, THIS IS GOING TO HURT....AWWW...MY NOSE IS MAYBE GONNA HURT....HERE COMES THE ASPHALT....OOF YUP...NOSE HURTS...
It then becomes apparent that my nose is one of my lesser problems,
I didn't try to protect my face because my left hand was holding my right with grim determination. "Houston we got a problem." Now starts with the PAIN and I seem to be the center of attention for a growing number of people.
There is the Helper, the good Samaritans, the rubber neckers, and the clue that I'm not doing so hot is my talking to them, and myself, with clenched teeth, short breath, short temper, a slightly profane manner and some exasperation.
I need to explain the Helper; there always seems to be one around, fresh from EMT training in Catoosa, rubber gloves at the ready and very, very eager.
So there I was, gracefully reclining on Yale Ave. Watching my blood flow – not drip or run, we are talking flow here – while all the people were yapping about broken necks. Helper says, "Don't move man, you might have a broken neck." Young lady says, "OH SHIT!" Unknown man says, "Oh my God." Gus says, "My f-ing neck is not broken.”
Young lady says, "EEK." Helper says, "Don't move man, you might have a
broken neck." Unknown man says, "OH SHIT." Gus says, "My neck is not broken." This goes on in various variations until I finally get their attention by telling them, "You all won't care about my neck much longer if you don't turn off the bike’s ignition switch and stop the gas from running out all around us." Helper says, "OH SHIT." Young lady says, "Oh my God." Gus says, "Get out of my way," and I knee walk to the bike and take care of it myself. Several more minutes are used up getting them to stand the bike up to completely stop the gas from running all over us.
Accident sites when described in so much detail seem awfully messy don't you think? I would like to have a picture of all this, and I wonder if it would look staged after the official cast arrived. This included my wife, who had arrived after getting my message off the answering machine - used my cell phone – (please don’t tell the real bikers), EMSA, fire department, police, and of course more rubber neckers.
There was also a person there who I refer to as the CUTTER. He is at all EMSA accident/pick up sites.
OK, here is the drill as l remember it. EMT says, "Need the neck brace." Gus says, "My neck is not broke." Cutter says, "I'll need to cut your coat off..." Gus interrupts with, "NO WAY, JUST TAKE IT OFF." EMT does this, no problem. The CUTTER says, "I'll have to cut some of your beard to get the neck brace on." Gus says with much vigor, "AIN'T NO WAY." So EMT just drapes the neck brace over my neck and beard.
The CUTTER gets even by shoving the backboard under me with out giving me a chance to raise my injured shoulder. Gus mumbles, "Neck ain't broke anyway."
Wife is busy taking care of billfold, cell phone, tool bags, belt knife and tools, talking to cop, who is great to me because he didn't say one thing to me, calling friends to come and get Spot before something happens to her. Wife knew that would be a worry to me so that was one of her first moves. She didn't tell me until later that she was also looking to see my other wounds because the little cuts on my face surely couldn't account for all the blood that was running down the street. Head wounds do bleed a lot.
After twice almost dropping me in the street they get me and my backboard on the gurney and head for the ambulance. Uh oh, the CUTTER is pushing me. THIS IS GOING TO HURT. In only three tries of banging the gurney into the back of the ambulance to get it to automatically fold and slide in, I was ready to go. YUP, ...IT...HURTS... Sometimes it isn't much fun being right.
Uh oh, I'm in here with the CUTTER and the door is closed. This is not good. Then it's lights, siren and we're off. This thing rides like a dump truck and they are going down 21st street, I can tell by the bumps and so inform them.
They are amazed that I could tell where I was but then I do ride a hard tail bike. I know where all the bimps are... I think the CUTTER had something to do with the route. Anyway, he'd not gone away, no sir, he was right there in the truck with me saying, "Got to cut this spur off so we can get your boots off." I didn't even comment, just flipped off my boots onto the floor, then I said sotto voice, "They come off with out cutting, too." He got even, they banged me into the doorway of the emergency entrance twice going in. They gave me two trips from one end of the emergency room to the other before parking me in what appeared to be an alleyway, and then the wife showed up and no particular help arrived for a while.
That's when I figured it out about the CUTTER.
So when he came again and said he wanted to cut my T-shirt off I said "Sure, go for it," and he did. Immediately after that, doctors, nurses, aids of all kinds descended upon me. Attention at last. So take heed, if you're ever unfortunate enough to be in this same setup, let the CUTTER have something early on and you'll have a much better time of it.
X-ray people also seem more used to unconscious victims if my handling was any indication. I did get through it though and then the big wigs started showing up. Seems my right shoulder was a bit of a mess and it was time for some horsepower. In other words, they were not going to touch me. This great doctor arrived in due time. On 10-31-96, Halloween, apropos don’t you think, I went under the knife. The idea of saving the original equipment had to be scrubbed and stainless steel was used to give me a shot at 12 to 15 years
before it wore out and needed to be replaced. It occurred to me that I should have had them keep the parts for show and tell, I asked but I think it was too late. Anyway, the next nine days were spent in the hospital and if it had not been for the PAIN it would have almost been fun.
Everyone put a severe dent in my 'pity pot' so as to make it almost unusable. Wife, Mom, sister Chris (up for a couple of days) and over 100 other folks came to see me, offer help, give moral support, etc. And then there were the cards, letters, flowers, and what not that was sent, which left little time to answer the phone calls from those who didn't come in person. If I'm so rash as to get to feeling sorry for myself anytime in the next 50 years, Wife will wave the list she made under my nose. Really kind of an awesome thing, THANKS all who supported!
While in the hospital I made an interesting discovery, hospital beds. These $10,000 devices of the DEVIL are a world unto their own and I know that not even I have done enough bad things in my whole life to make me deserve the terror and frustrations of...of... of... these infernal machines.
The poor person sentenced to spend time in them is the one person for whom the bed will do nothing. The buttons are unreachable, the trapeze assembly is unreachable without a PAINFUL lunge to try to get it to help yourself get up to go potty, which the bed tries to prevent in every way. Also the TV controls are just as impossible and much to the dismay of those who enjoy TV, all hospital TVs only get Jeopardy on all channels, at all times. Oh well, at least the PAIN gave me something to think about to make time pass.
Finally on 11-8-96 we were told to go home, I was off the needle and the X-rays looked OK, and 4 frustrating hours later we did just that.
Have I been clear enough, detailed enough so far? OK, good.
Now things start to really happen.
The car lunges towards me as if it doesn't see me, nor apparently do they hear Spot. It seems obvious to me that I need to CHARGE like Hell to the rear but the laws of physics are not repealed despite my ardent wish to the contrary, so I start the next best thing, taking the bike down. The car hesitates just enough that I see that I won't have to go down but should be able to get clear. Meanwhile in the car the 16-year-old passenger says to the 18-year-old driver something along the lines of, “don't see...eek...guy...motorcycle...eek!” I see the car hesitate and swerve. Being 18 years old, the driver, 1/100th of a nano-second later, determines that the correct course of action is to floor it so as to clear across the intersection that I'm already in. Alas, the laws of physics were not repealed for her either.
Possibly you have heard of some of these old sayings: oil & water don't mix; two into one and you're done; two wrongs don't make a right; etc. Well, what I remember thinking was along these lines: OH SHIT...GOT TO GO DOWN...NO, WAIT, WE'RE GOING TO CLEAR – YIPES...SHE'S GOING FASTER, THIS AIN'T GOING TO WORK... Please Mr. Custer, I don't want to go!...OH WELL IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE IT'S GOING TO TOO BAD.... OH ,OH, THE FRONT WHEEL IS FOLDING UP....WELL MAYBE THIS IS GOING TO BE A LITTLE WORSE THAN I THOUGHT – OH SHIT, THIS IS GOING TO HURT....AWWW...MY NOSE IS MAYBE GONNA HURT....HERE COMES THE ASPHALT....OOF YUP...NOSE HURTS...
It then becomes apparent that my nose is one of my lesser problems,
I didn't try to protect my face because my left hand was holding my right with grim determination. "Houston we got a problem." Now starts with the PAIN and I seem to be the center of attention for a growing number of people.
There is the Helper, the good Samaritans, the rubber neckers, and the clue that I'm not doing so hot is my talking to them, and myself, with clenched teeth, short breath, short temper, a slightly profane manner and some exasperation.
I need to explain the Helper; there always seems to be one around, fresh from EMT training in Catoosa, rubber gloves at the ready and very, very eager.
So there I was, gracefully reclining on Yale Ave. Watching my blood flow – not drip or run, we are talking flow here – while all the people were yapping about broken necks. Helper says, "Don't move man, you might have a broken neck." Young lady says, "OH SHIT!" Unknown man says, "Oh my God." Gus says, "My f-ing neck is not broken.”
Young lady says, "EEK." Helper says, "Don't move man, you might have a
broken neck." Unknown man says, "OH SHIT." Gus says, "My neck is not broken." This goes on in various variations until I finally get their attention by telling them, "You all won't care about my neck much longer if you don't turn off the bike’s ignition switch and stop the gas from running out all around us." Helper says, "OH SHIT." Young lady says, "Oh my God." Gus says, "Get out of my way," and I knee walk to the bike and take care of it myself. Several more minutes are used up getting them to stand the bike up to completely stop the gas from running all over us.
Accident sites when described in so much detail seem awfully messy don't you think? I would like to have a picture of all this, and I wonder if it would look staged after the official cast arrived. This included my wife, who had arrived after getting my message off the answering machine - used my cell phone – (please don’t tell the real bikers), EMSA, fire department, police, and of course more rubber neckers.
There was also a person there who I refer to as the CUTTER. He is at all EMSA accident/pick up sites.
OK, here is the drill as l remember it. EMT says, "Need the neck brace." Gus says, "My neck is not broke." Cutter says, "I'll need to cut your coat off..." Gus interrupts with, "NO WAY, JUST TAKE IT OFF." EMT does this, no problem. The CUTTER says, "I'll have to cut some of your beard to get the neck brace on." Gus says with much vigor, "AIN'T NO WAY." So EMT just drapes the neck brace over my neck and beard.
The CUTTER gets even by shoving the backboard under me with out giving me a chance to raise my injured shoulder. Gus mumbles, "Neck ain't broke anyway."
Wife is busy taking care of billfold, cell phone, tool bags, belt knife and tools, talking to cop, who is great to me because he didn't say one thing to me, calling friends to come and get Spot before something happens to her. Wife knew that would be a worry to me so that was one of her first moves. She didn't tell me until later that she was also looking to see my other wounds because the little cuts on my face surely couldn't account for all the blood that was running down the street. Head wounds do bleed a lot.
After twice almost dropping me in the street they get me and my backboard on the gurney and head for the ambulance. Uh oh, the CUTTER is pushing me. THIS IS GOING TO HURT. In only three tries of banging the gurney into the back of the ambulance to get it to automatically fold and slide in, I was ready to go. YUP, ...IT...HURTS... Sometimes it isn't much fun being right.
Uh oh, I'm in here with the CUTTER and the door is closed. This is not good. Then it's lights, siren and we're off. This thing rides like a dump truck and they are going down 21st street, I can tell by the bumps and so inform them.
They are amazed that I could tell where I was but then I do ride a hard tail bike. I know where all the bimps are... I think the CUTTER had something to do with the route. Anyway, he'd not gone away, no sir, he was right there in the truck with me saying, "Got to cut this spur off so we can get your boots off." I didn't even comment, just flipped off my boots onto the floor, then I said sotto voice, "They come off with out cutting, too." He got even, they banged me into the doorway of the emergency entrance twice going in. They gave me two trips from one end of the emergency room to the other before parking me in what appeared to be an alleyway, and then the wife showed up and no particular help arrived for a while.
That's when I figured it out about the CUTTER.
So when he came again and said he wanted to cut my T-shirt off I said "Sure, go for it," and he did. Immediately after that, doctors, nurses, aids of all kinds descended upon me. Attention at last. So take heed, if you're ever unfortunate enough to be in this same setup, let the CUTTER have something early on and you'll have a much better time of it.
X-ray people also seem more used to unconscious victims if my handling was any indication. I did get through it though and then the big wigs started showing up. Seems my right shoulder was a bit of a mess and it was time for some horsepower. In other words, they were not going to touch me. This great doctor arrived in due time. On 10-31-96, Halloween, apropos don’t you think, I went under the knife. The idea of saving the original equipment had to be scrubbed and stainless steel was used to give me a shot at 12 to 15 years
before it wore out and needed to be replaced. It occurred to me that I should have had them keep the parts for show and tell, I asked but I think it was too late. Anyway, the next nine days were spent in the hospital and if it had not been for the PAIN it would have almost been fun.
Everyone put a severe dent in my 'pity pot' so as to make it almost unusable. Wife, Mom, sister Chris (up for a couple of days) and over 100 other folks came to see me, offer help, give moral support, etc. And then there were the cards, letters, flowers, and what not that was sent, which left little time to answer the phone calls from those who didn't come in person. If I'm so rash as to get to feeling sorry for myself anytime in the next 50 years, Wife will wave the list she made under my nose. Really kind of an awesome thing, THANKS all who supported!
While in the hospital I made an interesting discovery, hospital beds. These $10,000 devices of the DEVIL are a world unto their own and I know that not even I have done enough bad things in my whole life to make me deserve the terror and frustrations of...of... of... these infernal machines.
The poor person sentenced to spend time in them is the one person for whom the bed will do nothing. The buttons are unreachable, the trapeze assembly is unreachable without a PAINFUL lunge to try to get it to help yourself get up to go potty, which the bed tries to prevent in every way. Also the TV controls are just as impossible and much to the dismay of those who enjoy TV, all hospital TVs only get Jeopardy on all channels, at all times. Oh well, at least the PAIN gave me something to think about to make time pass.
Finally on 11-8-96 we were told to go home, I was off the needle and the X-rays looked OK, and 4 frustrating hours later we did just that.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
8 second whistle
We didn't make the 8 second buzzer.
First things first. We're both okay!
It was a beautiful day, and we were more than ready to head on home. We made it to within 60 miles of the house and ka-PING! * whap *...!@#$%^!
Not good. Oh. Crap. This is going to hurt....
Still not sure just what happened. Whether the tire blew first, then the primary belt got full of mud and broke...or?
Anyway, Gus did a great job of getting Spot headed off of the asphalt, and into a grassy ditch. That's the first choice, always. Road rash hurts like hell, and hard pack can do some major damage, or death in a
hurry.
And it bucked. And it slid. Colleen hooked her heels to the pegs, balled up, and got ready to rock and roll. Instead, the first bump stood her up, the second flipped her into the air, then the sissy bar smacked her in the butt, and flipped her end over end. Which possibly is the best thing to have happen, as she then landed sideways in some mud and soft grass.
Gus got to ride the bronc to the bitter end, which was within 1 foot of a culvert. Going any faster, and the front wheel would probably have smacked it, then sent him and the bike flying.
He did get his left leg trapped under the bike, but made sure to turn it off before trying to escape.
Are you okay?Yeah. Are you? Yeah.
Look at this...stuff all over, mud on us and all the bags,...dammit.
Sittin in the ditch.
Sittin in the ditch some more.
Colleen walked down the road to the nearest house to see about getting a way for the bike and people home. It's Sunday.
Nobody working to call, unless we have a wrecker come down.
In the meantime, some kids on crotch rockets stop by, and one of their friends with his 4 wheeler in the back of his truck.
They all manage to get Spot out of the ditch, and Gus has a ride to our house in the truck. He knows better about hooking up the trailer to our truck, and bringing it back. Colleen opts to stay and guard Spot. Not a bad duty overall, if it weren't for the friendly ticks.
Three hours. She cleaned out her purse, killed ticks, ate a muffin and some chocolate, killed ticks, nabbed some wild and wary iris plants from up the road. Talked to some people who stopped, waved others on, got up and walked once in awhile to make sure no muscles froze up. Really was wishing for a paperback book...
Meanwhile Gus is rushing to get back, (after a Hello Kitty to the animals. They weren't impressed), and his knee is getting more and more creaky. Not one drop of blood shed during the entire operation. Spot got a trailer ride, we
stopped at Wally World for pain meds, then a trip through the car wash to take a layer of ditch off. Tomorrow is soon enough to look closer, and try to figure out what happened.
We'll probably have some new sore places, and colorful bruises by then.
Our guardian crew was working overtime today.
Just wasn't our turn, and we're grateful.
First things first. We're both okay!
It was a beautiful day, and we were more than ready to head on home. We made it to within 60 miles of the house and ka-PING! * whap *...!@#$%^!
Not good. Oh. Crap. This is going to hurt....
Still not sure just what happened. Whether the tire blew first, then the primary belt got full of mud and broke...or?
Anyway, Gus did a great job of getting Spot headed off of the asphalt, and into a grassy ditch. That's the first choice, always. Road rash hurts like hell, and hard pack can do some major damage, or death in a
hurry.
And it bucked. And it slid. Colleen hooked her heels to the pegs, balled up, and got ready to rock and roll. Instead, the first bump stood her up, the second flipped her into the air, then the sissy bar smacked her in the butt, and flipped her end over end. Which possibly is the best thing to have happen, as she then landed sideways in some mud and soft grass.
Gus got to ride the bronc to the bitter end, which was within 1 foot of a culvert. Going any faster, and the front wheel would probably have smacked it, then sent him and the bike flying.
He did get his left leg trapped under the bike, but made sure to turn it off before trying to escape.
Are you okay?Yeah. Are you? Yeah.
Look at this...stuff all over, mud on us and all the bags,...dammit.
Sittin in the ditch.
Sittin in the ditch some more.
Colleen walked down the road to the nearest house to see about getting a way for the bike and people home. It's Sunday.
Nobody working to call, unless we have a wrecker come down.
In the meantime, some kids on crotch rockets stop by, and one of their friends with his 4 wheeler in the back of his truck.
They all manage to get Spot out of the ditch, and Gus has a ride to our house in the truck. He knows better about hooking up the trailer to our truck, and bringing it back. Colleen opts to stay and guard Spot. Not a bad duty overall, if it weren't for the friendly ticks.
Three hours. She cleaned out her purse, killed ticks, ate a muffin and some chocolate, killed ticks, nabbed some wild and wary iris plants from up the road. Talked to some people who stopped, waved others on, got up and walked once in awhile to make sure no muscles froze up. Really was wishing for a paperback book...
Meanwhile Gus is rushing to get back, (after a Hello Kitty to the animals. They weren't impressed), and his knee is getting more and more creaky. Not one drop of blood shed during the entire operation. Spot got a trailer ride, we
stopped at Wally World for pain meds, then a trip through the car wash to take a layer of ditch off. Tomorrow is soon enough to look closer, and try to figure out what happened.
We'll probably have some new sore places, and colorful bruises by then.
Our guardian crew was working overtime today.
Just wasn't our turn, and we're grateful.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Owl in the Night
Rain, dark and curvy road, no traffic to the front or rear. High beams on and watching for deer. Running 50 in a 55.
I did not wobble much. Of course not, not even a mongoose could have reacted to what happened, it was quick.
Also old habits indicated that when loud and scary noises that break the machine happen, ya don’t wanna be jerking her round Captain as you might break it worse ya know.
What I saw that, covered about 1/10th of a second, White object that was very fast and compact looking was descending from high right in a counter clockwise arc/spiral as viewed by me and impacted the lower right side of the windshield at almost the perpendicular to its slant and just disappeared with a "Wham".
By the time Lady Dragon had raised up and said, "Wha.....", I guess that my mind had noted that I did not see shards of ice so the great ice blob from the sky was not the culprit, the descending arc was somehow controlled, ( if the truck had not been real, the object would have come in the lower right side of the windshield and exited the lower rear corner of the right hand door after going through precious parts of Lady Dragon and the seat judging by the noted trajectory) and since it was white looking, buzzards, hawks and such were ruled out. I did not think that escaped chickens and / or turkeys would be dive bombing at anytime of day or night (never thought of those encounters of the third kind) and so it was probably an owl.
Now I have heard that hawks can achieve 180 MPH + when tucked in a dive but the controlled arc said that it had some small wing deployment for control but had to be really moving along to do that kind of damage.
The lack of feathers and blood was why I was really unsure of what we had hit. I have hit all kids of stuff with ground based vehicles and those that do not stay on the ground and when that much damage occurs, there is "BLOOD & GUTS". Maybe in the morning when I’ll take a few pictures I might find a few but.......
When I picked it up from the road centerline ( must have bounced right over the truck) it was a very limp owl. Must be jelly inside, but no blood and guts apparent tonight.
I figure that there must have been a combined impact speed of at least 150 MPH to do the damage done. It is a small and light owl. Picture the effect of a sorta soft bowling ball swung a hard as you could without actually going through the windshield.
It had fixated on a target beside the road? Was trying to beat me to it? Thought I was gonna get it first? Was just stubborn? Why was it not afraid of the truck. Owls are shy, right? Not this dude.
I have had owls come past me in the dark but never through lights. Why did the sudden lights not cause him to lose sight of his prey?
Mmmmm Lady Dragon is really delectable......... but come on......... she was covered by a blankie
I did not wobble much. Of course not, not even a mongoose could have reacted to what happened, it was quick.
Also old habits indicated that when loud and scary noises that break the machine happen, ya don’t wanna be jerking her round Captain as you might break it worse ya know.
What I saw that, covered about 1/10th of a second, White object that was very fast and compact looking was descending from high right in a counter clockwise arc/spiral as viewed by me and impacted the lower right side of the windshield at almost the perpendicular to its slant and just disappeared with a "Wham".
By the time Lady Dragon had raised up and said, "Wha.....", I guess that my mind had noted that I did not see shards of ice so the great ice blob from the sky was not the culprit, the descending arc was somehow controlled, ( if the truck had not been real, the object would have come in the lower right side of the windshield and exited the lower rear corner of the right hand door after going through precious parts of Lady Dragon and the seat judging by the noted trajectory) and since it was white looking, buzzards, hawks and such were ruled out. I did not think that escaped chickens and / or turkeys would be dive bombing at anytime of day or night (never thought of those encounters of the third kind) and so it was probably an owl.
Now I have heard that hawks can achieve 180 MPH + when tucked in a dive but the controlled arc said that it had some small wing deployment for control but had to be really moving along to do that kind of damage.
The lack of feathers and blood was why I was really unsure of what we had hit. I have hit all kids of stuff with ground based vehicles and those that do not stay on the ground and when that much damage occurs, there is "BLOOD & GUTS". Maybe in the morning when I’ll take a few pictures I might find a few but.......
When I picked it up from the road centerline ( must have bounced right over the truck) it was a very limp owl. Must be jelly inside, but no blood and guts apparent tonight.
I figure that there must have been a combined impact speed of at least 150 MPH to do the damage done. It is a small and light owl. Picture the effect of a sorta soft bowling ball swung a hard as you could without actually going through the windshield.
It had fixated on a target beside the road? Was trying to beat me to it? Thought I was gonna get it first? Was just stubborn? Why was it not afraid of the truck. Owls are shy, right? Not this dude.
I have had owls come past me in the dark but never through lights. Why did the sudden lights not cause him to lose sight of his prey?
Mmmmm Lady Dragon is really delectable......... but come on......... she was covered by a blankie
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