Had my first ride in a week this morning, and it was just what I needed. My brother had borrowed The Jackal in my absence[1], and just before I headed off to work he called to tell me it wouldn't start. I dropped by his place on my way, diagnosed the problem[2], bump started the bike and continued. He told me that a bloke of my acquaintance, Damien[3] had been killed in a motorbike crash during the week, near Frogmore. He didn't get home overnight, and was found the next morning near a travelling stock reserve. The suspicion is that if the crash didn't kill him outright he probably would have bled to death (he was a haemophiliac). It's sad, but at least he didn't live his life wrapped in cotton wool and never leaving his house. And he'd already lived 15 years longer than the doctors gave him when he was diagnosed with the condition. BTH [1] His missus' car got dented in a carpark, and for some reason the panelbeater needed it for a week. [2] Flat battery. [3] About my age, I'd met him intermittently while we were both at school.
