You're going to like this one.

I got to leave work a little early today, because if I didn't they would have to pay me overtime for the week, and they just did not want to be the ones that would give me the extra money. That's fine, I called the athletic club and signed up for an extra rock wall shift tonight. They pay me more there anyway.

As I was leaving Harley the bossman asked me to take one of the VRod motorcycles home for the evening to put some miles on it and break it in so we can rent it out. Being the helpful gentleman that I am, I agreed to take the brand new 20 thousand dollar drag bike home for the evening. I planned on getting up early tomorrow and riding for a while before work. Great. Grand. Good times.

Plans have changed. The bike didn't quite get broken in, just broken. A 70 year old lady in a Jeep Cherokee decided to make an illegal lane change downdown and hit me on my way to the athletic club. We were on Colorado Ave at a place where it is one way, with two travel lanes. I was in the left lane looking good and feeling good. The old lady was in the right lane looking old and feeling old. We were just tootling along, minding our own business, until she realized that she needed to make a left turn. Halfway through the intersection she wanted to turn at. From the right lane. With me in the way.

This is the part where her decision making process differs from mine. Where I would have 1) been in the correct lane, 2) remembered when to turn BEFORE the turn, and 3) LOOKED before I slammed through several lanes of busy traffic SHE decided she was making that turn damn it, and nothing was going to stand in her way, not common sense, not generally recognized laws of the road, nor even a handsome young gentleman astride a brilliant blue motorcycle.

Old lady hit a Max Tyson. Crushed my exhaust pipes, pushed me around like a tsunami of senility, ripped the front end off her Jeep. She did those things. I shredded the cherokee gnar on my drag bike, bounced around like a meth head at a daft punk concert, and got out of it without dropping the bike, or getting seriously injured. Cause i'm the man. Oh, and i'm invincible. We already knew that.

It could have been worse. The cops that came were motorcycle cops, and they cited the lady for driving like a crazy person, hitting a Max Tyson, being old and senile, and still having studded tires on her truck. I got out of there with a slightly banged up, but drivable bike, 20 minutes late for work at the gym, and her insurance information so that she can buy Cascade Harley Davidson some sweet new pipes for their rental VROD. Seats.