| Author | Message | ||
     Vito |
THIS POST IS A RANT ABOUT A MORON WHO OPENED HIS DOOR ON ME, SO PLEASE FORGIVE MY RANT. So I am out for a nice ride today, it's in the 50's here in the Northwest. Heading home I stop at the convenience store in a strip mall next to a teriyaki place thinking I will get winning lotto tickets. The road was widened so there is a sidewalk, then curb, then driveway running parallel to the building and street, with parallel parking next to the building. Moron in an SUV who is sitting in his SUV blabbing on his phone, decides to throw, and I mean THROW his door open and I have to go wide-bear in mind the curb is to the left and it is sloped. I'm doing about 4 mph and the front tire ends up on the metal drainage grate, and with the drop off in pavement, I am a good 8" from touching. I end up setting it down on its left side. I get off and rip my nice Buell helmet off and throw it on the ground (grass thank heavens), and this moron comes over and yells at ME in Vietnamese (turns out he owns the teriyaki shop). I yell right back at him and he flys over leaning over my bike finger pointing and screaming. The guy is poking me in the chest and I got 850 pounds on a downhill slope, a damaged ego and whatever damage to the bike. This guy is probably late 50's little guy, and the 3rd time he poked me in the chest I grabbed his finger and bent him around backwards inviting him to move so that I could place that finger right up his ass. Next thing you know 2 younger guys come out of the teriyaki place screaming in Vietnamese, and I am starting to think I should have slept in. I let go of the old guy and he walks away screaming, so I ask the young guy who the old moron is, and he says it's my father. I told him his moronic father opened his door on me. He translates and the old guy screams he didn't see me. NOW I got a whole family of teriyaki store owners pissed off, my Electra tipped over on a downhill slope on the left side, and with the slope, I can't pick it up. The old man is jabbering on and I tell the kid to tell the dad to get his ass over and help me pick this thing up. The kid grabs the right hand grip (he's 18 or so) and the dad grabs the exhaust header for the rear cylinder and the right muffler and lets out a blood curdling scream. The kid and I get it up. And I'm looking at how much THIS is gonna cost me, as well as how I can get it safely underway with that slope, the dad is hopping around with burned hands, and I am not happy. I finally get on the bike and gingerly drive it to a flat spot. The kid comes over and translates that the dad did not see me and he was sorry. Me, I'm still too torqued off to listen to anything. The dad comes over and shakes my hand (gingerly from the burns). So after all is said and done-the only damage was an abrasion on the elephant ears on the crash bar, and a small paint chip in the floor board support, which I touch up. My ego was major damaged. Fortunately, as much as I wanted to pop him, I didn't. OK-I feel better now-BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT!! | ||
| Treadmarks |
dayuuum. Glad you're alright. You handled the situation much better than I would. Hell, I woulda been on the news here in miami. Hellicopters flyin all around an sheit. | ||
| Sslowmo |
damn, that would have been a tough one. but it sounds like you did the right thing. | ||
| Cityxslicker |
I am sooooo sick of the I didnt see him excuse, did some attorney somewhere say that this was a way to respond to a motorcycle incident? | ||
| Mtg |
Hilarious- the idiot grabbed the hot exhaust. | ||
| Ft_bstrd |
Daredevil dumped Electra?  There's still hope! | ||
| Vito |
Thank you all for allowing me my Saturday evening rant. It was very much appreciated. Having ridden as long as I have to have something that stupid happen with as much training as I have and do, I shoulda been able to avoid that. My impression after reflecting, was that this guy either 1-didn't see me, or 2-is plain stupid. The one thing I did feel bad about was when I asked the kid who the old moron was and he said his dad, I felt like crap. Deserved or not, somebody calls my dad a moron, and there's gonna be a problem. Lessons learned-stay out of narrow driveays with downhill slopes-approach vehicles very cautiously, and never eat teriyaki in that joint wearing anything but a suit and tie. So to all the Badwebbers-thanks for listening! | ||
| Clutchless |
just reminds me of me jumping up when this old guy sideswiped me when he merged into traffic. Pushing me off the road and up a driveways into a yard. I started pounding on his car cause he wouldnt get out and take my tounge lashing. I didnt notice his couple grandsons?nephews? that were coming outta the local garage where he was pulling out of. they assured me that continuing to pound on his car was going to get me pounded by them. They then helped me right my sporty with a little brake lever tightining, gave me $100 for a new set of levers. Now I go there for stuff I cant handle on my mazda (control arms....new tires). I figured that those guys were pretty honest with me and could have made me a skidmark. But they remained proffesional even tho I'm not.....ever. They were surprised to see me in there to say the least. They do pretty good work too. who knew?  (Message edited by clutchless on November 05, 2007) | ||
| Ccryder |
Back in 1977, I was riding down Main St. in Wichita, KS with a LEO behind me. This little old Lady, so short she did not stick up above her headrest ( I checked), flung open the door of her 2 door El Dorado. My Guzzi 850 T-3 nailed that door square and wrapped it all the way around to the front fender. Thank God for crash bars. I got stopped about 20' past her. The LEO that was behind me almost ran her over! When all things calmed down, I had a scratched crash bar, she had a totaled Cadillac! To add insult to her non-injury, she got a ticket for getting out of her car on the wrong side and something else (I didn't know some of those words she was using, must have been in a foreign tongue!). My lessoned learned was to look in mirrors as well as rear windows ;+} Time2Work Neil S. |
