My go-to phrase for many of life's little frustrations is some variant of "because that's just what I wanted to do." Spilling the contents of one's purse when one is in a BIG hurry: "well, that's just what I wanted to do!" Mindlessly driving past one's turn-off, forgetting that one had to pick up kids instead of going straight home: "Ah, just what I wanted to do." Very versatile phrase, just change the emphasis to go from snarky-sarcastic to plain vanilla sarcastic.
My husband recently got to use this phrase as he failed to negotiate a turn on a really curvy stretch of road on the motorcycle while driving to Fayetteville, Arkansas for the Bikes, Blues and Barbecue shindig. He became a human lawn-dart, plunging down into a ravine and then rolling the rest of the way with the bike following behind - closely. Of course the bike stopped finally when it hit a gully, but Hubby kept going through brush and trees. He was riding with a group of firemen/EMT's and an anesthetist, so he was in good hands. Although he walked away from the wreck with a relatively small assortment of scrapes and bruises, as well as thoracic and cervical sprains, he did take a 32 mile ambulance trip to be thoroughly checked out at Freeman Hospital in Joplin. He was warned by the Paramedics that he was coming in as a trauma case and he would have a team of doctors and nurses on him like flies on... well, you get the idea. And apparently he did - he said it was like one of those medical shows on TV. As soon as the ambulance doors opened all he saw were faces and lights and equipment and everyone talking at once - organized chaos is what came to his mind. They immediately shucked him of his clothes (no need to cut them, thankfully) and checked him for broken bones, internal bleeding and head trauma, as well as punctures or lacerations. All of the guys he was with, the Trooper working the accident, and the emergency crew that attended him were amazed at his condition considering the circumstances. But that's what prayer will do for you.
The night before the ride, Hubby's oldest son felt the need to pray because he had an uneasy feeling about it. That morning before he left, I did also, and I usually don't - feel uneasy about his rides, that is. Between the two of us, and unbeknownst to each other, we prayed over the ride. And God was with him because it was a flat miracle that he wasn't seriously injured, and by all accounts, he should have been. The bike, however is another story. It was a beautiful 2006 Honda Shadow Sabre, Titanium and Silver flames and now it is scrap metal. The insurance company was good to us, though and we were able to get enough to put down on a new bike, but more about that later.
Meanwhile, while hubby was traveling to the hospital in Joplin, one of the other guys on the ride called me at work and proceeded to give me a very smoothed-over account of what had happened - almost like it was no big deal, just taking precautions, etc. He of course didn't know that I rarely (not never, just not usually) panic over the big stuff. I get that from my mom - case in point; when my brother had a bicycle accident that took out his two front teeth and left asphalt shoved up into his gums and him bleeding into his shirt pockets, she grabbed a wash rag, got it wet and began washing him up About that time she noticed something missing and asked him, "Robin, where's your teeth?" But I digress...
So the fireman (whom I know) begins with "Hey Dara, this is____", and then proceeds to tell me how he's on the ride with Hubby and where they were headed and where they currently are...(I'm following his meandering tale, trying to figure out what's going on) and he eventually tells me that going around a curve Hubby laid his bike down on the side of the road, which is a highly technical term for wreck. You can see how using that phrasing makes it sound pretty harmless, right? He tells me he's fine, just a few scrapes, but his back hurts a little so they encouraged him to go get checked out. He has provided me the important information that my husband is among the living and not seriously broken, so the first thing I ask is: "What about the bike?" Typical response among people who ride, although I don't ride per se, I ride with. (there is a technical term for this also, but we won't go into it because it's less than flattering and well, I'm keeping it G as opposed to PG) In the beginning the tone of the conversation, as I mentioned before, was casual and designed to minimize the situation to avoid outright panic, so his response to this question was "well, it's got some scratches" (true) and "the pegs on one side are bent and broken" (also true) and "it's a little messed up" (understatement). Later when I called him back because I got no answer from Hubby's phone (remember I had no idea about his "trauma" status), I asked him point-blank if the bike was driveable and as it turned out, no, it was not driveable at all.
That first image is our model bike but without saddlebags, windshield, Mustang seat, and backrest. That second image is our exact bike and is unrecognizable except for the tail light. See that hole in the brush just beyond where the tail light of the bike is? That is where Hubby continued to roll. Yeah - so it was much worse than I thought. Of course once I knew what I was dealing with, I was starting to get more concerned about Hubby's condition, but he assured me that he was in good hands and they were looking him over. He gave me updates as our oldest and I made our way to Joplin and I felt better about it all. Then I started getting texts from Hubby once ER released him. His first message to me was "well, I've been saying that I wanted a Harley - looks like it's Harley time" Yeah, he's okay.
He's been pretty sore, but otherwise fine and lucky to be alive. He's got a little gimp in his walk, but at his age, who doesn't?
I mentioned that the insurance company gave us enough to put down on a new bike, so we took a trip down to Joplin to Hideout Harley Davidson. We ended up getting a 2015 Heritage Classic Softail in Black Magic and it's beautiful. I wanted the white model (actually called Morrocco Gold) but he thought it was kind of girly *eye-roll* and since he will be driving it, I agreed to go with the blue one. Besides, I decided that if I relented on the color, the least he could do was get me a leather coat. And so he did :)
The people at Hideout are wonderful. They treated us like family and we never once felt like we were just "a sale", so I highly recommend them if you are in the market and in the area. Hubby had the next day off also, so he spent it getting to know the new bike and it is safe to say that he is in love with it. He took me for a ride on it once I got off work, and it was awesome! ~
So the fireman (whom I know) begins with "Hey Dara, this is____", and then proceeds to tell me how he's on the ride with Hubby and where they were headed and where they currently are...(I'm following his meandering tale, trying to figure out what's going on) and he eventually tells me that going around a curve Hubby laid his bike down on the side of the road, which is a highly technical term for wreck. You can see how using that phrasing makes it sound pretty harmless, right? He tells me he's fine, just a few scrapes, but his back hurts a little so they encouraged him to go get checked out. He has provided me the important information that my husband is among the living and not seriously broken, so the first thing I ask is: "What about the bike?" Typical response among people who ride, although I don't ride per se, I ride with. (there is a technical term for this also, but we won't go into it because it's less than flattering and well, I'm keeping it G as opposed to PG) In the beginning the tone of the conversation, as I mentioned before, was casual and designed to minimize the situation to avoid outright panic, so his response to this question was "well, it's got some scratches" (true) and "the pegs on one side are bent and broken" (also true) and "it's a little messed up" (understatement). Later when I called him back because I got no answer from Hubby's phone (remember I had no idea about his "trauma" status), I asked him point-blank if the bike was driveable and as it turned out, no, it was not driveable at all.
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| Before (not ours but same model) |
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| After |
That first image is our model bike but without saddlebags, windshield, Mustang seat, and backrest. That second image is our exact bike and is unrecognizable except for the tail light. See that hole in the brush just beyond where the tail light of the bike is? That is where Hubby continued to roll. Yeah - so it was much worse than I thought. Of course once I knew what I was dealing with, I was starting to get more concerned about Hubby's condition, but he assured me that he was in good hands and they were looking him over. He gave me updates as our oldest and I made our way to Joplin and I felt better about it all. Then I started getting texts from Hubby once ER released him. His first message to me was "well, I've been saying that I wanted a Harley - looks like it's Harley time" Yeah, he's okay.
He's been pretty sore, but otherwise fine and lucky to be alive. He's got a little gimp in his walk, but at his age, who doesn't?
I mentioned that the insurance company gave us enough to put down on a new bike, so we took a trip down to Joplin to Hideout Harley Davidson. We ended up getting a 2015 Heritage Classic Softail in Black Magic and it's beautiful. I wanted the white model (actually called Morrocco Gold) but he thought it was kind of girly *eye-roll* and since he will be driving it, I agreed to go with the blue one. Besides, I decided that if I relented on the color, the least he could do was get me a leather coat. And so he did :)
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| Our new ride :) |
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