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<blockquote data-quote="svnmag" data-source="post: 70910" data-attributes="member: 330">I have no idea how/why I'm still alive from various vehicular exploits.&nbsp; I was an idiot and arguably did improve with age.&nbsp; A misguided maneuver on a dirt bike facilitated my left pinkie finger parallel and in contact with my left wrist(whole hand).&nbsp; Had to walk a half mile for &quot;help&quot;.&nbsp; It was an intense mental exercise.&nbsp; Snacked on a Charm's Blowpop and large cup of rootbeer while &quot;buddy&quot; went back through the woods to retrieve his bike.&nbsp; He was more worried about the damn motorcycle than getting me home.&nbsp; I was strangely starving and demanded something to eat while I waited.&nbsp; I was pissed off and threatened to steal the Camaro which would start without a key.&nbsp; I think the sugar actually helped with the pain and faintness.&nbsp; Rags sat with me until &quot;pal&quot; returned with the bike.&nbsp; When I get home, Mom and Dad immediately knew something was wrong when &quot;buddy&quot; got out and opened my car door. They both ran out in the yard.&nbsp; I had to take cover behind Dad, as Mom started going psycho about my torn new jeans.&nbsp; &quot;Sort of&quot; lost the bike bug after that and after a few more minor incidents it's all gone now.&nbsp; Motorcycles turned me pussy.- - - Updated - - -This story contains zero bullshi'ite. It is a true account to the best of my knowledge.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="svnmag, post: 70910, member: 330"] I have no idea how/why I'm still alive from various vehicular exploits. I was an idiot and arguably did improve with age. A misguided maneuver on a dirt bike facilitated my left pinkie finger parallel and in contact with my left wrist(whole hand). Had to walk a half mile for "help". It was an intense mental exercise. Snacked on a Charm's Blowpop and large cup of rootbeer while "buddy" went back through the woods to retrieve his bike. He was more worried about the damn motorcycle than getting me home. I was strangely starving and demanded something to eat while I waited. I was pissed off and threatened to steal the Camaro which would start without a key. I think the sugar actually helped with the pain and faintness. Rags sat with me until "pal" returned with the bike. When I get home, Mom and Dad immediately knew something was wrong when "buddy" got out and opened my car door. They both ran out in the yard. I had to take cover behind Dad, as Mom started going psycho about my torn new jeans. "Sort of" lost the bike bug after that and after a few more minor incidents it's all gone now. Motorcycles turned me pussy. [COLOR=silver][SIZE=1]- - - Updated - - -[/SIZE][/COLOR] This story contains zero bullshi'ite. It is a true account to the best of my knowledge. [/QUOTE]

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