some kukushits

i cried like fuck, when they wheeled siriusdogstar out at the bike mechanic's. his brand new handlebar and headlights are smart as hell, and only the petrol stains and angrily mauled front fender give away the accident. hadie revved him up around the block and the two-stroke purr put a spastic grin on my face for the rest of the day. that machine is a tough shit. took down three metal railings and engine's still working like a dream. damage for the new frontals: $550.

i cried like fuck, when i climbed on sirius for the last time this evening. saying goodbye to your favorite inanimate object is not fun, not least when other people think you're abit kukushit. i sold him to a nice boy, a virgin dirtbiker. hadie will help me do the transfer tommorrow because surely if i handle that myself the whole of LTA will think im kukushit when i break down in the carpark watching someone else ride off on my baby.

i know its hard to understand why a hunk of metal tied itself to my heart so. i dont care if mom or daddy or you dont understand. i miss the burnished perfume of 2T after a long ride, i miss the reassuring wide swell of wr fairings as we swallow kilometers together, i miss the steady grumble of the engine as we bully our way through sandy and long-grassed trails. most, i miss the nights when sirius brings me home safe and i pat his saddle and say 'thanks, old man'.

awhile ago when sirius developed some cranky carb problems i said - eh if you give me more problems im going to sell you off arh! no more problems after that. now i HAVE sold him, only because the doctor says my arm probably wont have the strength to wrestle a heavy bike after i recover. i've bought a new ktm, a pretty little racer that's crazy on torque and half the weight of sirius. but its killing me that it wont be my big old white wr monster thats waiting for me when im ready to ride again.

shkkkkkt!

warharhar. i have metal rods in my fingers. at my next appointment they will install a button, and then when i flex my buttocks steel will erupt from my knuckles. small children will collect trading cards of me, and my cards will have more stars than wolverine's.

i, the almost roadkill

hullo anonymous cyber-citizenry.
i was just in a bike accident - the unhappy meeting of my wr200 yamaha scram and some road divider railings. a bastard hit-n-run car was involved too, but more details after i impale his sorry face with the spiked wheels of my 'enhanced' wheelchair. scumbag is still at large.

that was a little more than a week ago. now i wrestle with an unforgiving itch under my right-arm cast and melolin on my thigh that keeps flapping in the wind, not unlike the vagina of a decrepit prostitute. injury count is this:

1) fractured 4th and 5th fingers of right hand
2) fractured right shoulder
3) puncture wound on right thigh where some railing bits went in
4) possible ligament tear in right knee
5) a busted bike

woe! for i am right-handed.
welcome to my very loud left-handed complaint about slow, painful recoveries and the inability to scratch my armpit!
tommorrow i get surgery for my broken fingers - stay tuned.