Big Mate rang me immediately after coming off his motorbike the other day. As he is the only paid up member of our gang, the Staggering Vulture’s Motorcycle Club, and I was the person who had talked him into buying a motorbike in the first place, I popped on my thongs and headed off.
We ‘Vultures’ have a long tradition of being in minor bike prangs. For a long time we were on a first name basis with most of the emergency services personnel around the district, but lately we’ve eased up on our stunt riding. We’re more mature now, and so are our bikes, which means spare parts are getting much harder to find.
Big Mate was being bundled into an ambulance when I arrived, and I gave him a quick nod as I dashed past to where his bike lay forlornly on the road. A couple of Firies helped me lift the old girl out of harms way, before I wandered back to see how the big fella was. Among other injuries, he had several cracked ribs, so I immediately started telling jokes. He grimaced as he tried not to laugh, and called me several unkind names, many of which the young lass attending him wrote down, possibly for future use during her next argument with hubby.
I was merely doing my job. You see, if a bloke is lying in agony in a pool of his own blood, can’t feel his left leg and is pretty certain he’s short several fingers, but sees his grinning mates standing about cracking lame jokes at his expense, eg: “Get some butter ‘cause he’s toast!”, then he knows that he’ll be just fine; probably. But if he hears one of them say in a calm, carefully controlled voice, “You’ll be right mate,” he’ll realise that he’s a goner, and react accordingly, i.e.: very badly.
You may be stunned to learn that they don’t teach this sort of stuff to medical professionals.
Anyway, since Big Mates’ prang I’m taking extra care on my bike now, and I’d heartily recommend other motorcyclists around town do the same. Not because accidents are painful, expensive, embarrassing, and generally bad for you, but because the last thing you want to see after your crash, is a couple of Staggering Vultures hovering over you cracking jokes, while the rest of them scavenge bits off your fallen bike.