My life as a pop-tart

she’s so fine there’s no telling where the money went

“quit moving around or we’ll have to kill you

(nurse cratchett)

“i hate people when they’re not polite

(d byrne)

“some of us are decent people who want to stay out of the emergency room, but still blast through neo-gridlock traffic… for that we need fine machinery … when the ducati turned up in my driveway, nobody knew what to do with it.. my lawyer said i should give myself up and enroll in the federal witness protection program … the motorcycle business was the last straw. it had to be the work of my enemies, or people who wanted to hurt me. it was the vilest kind of bait, and they knew i would go for it.

(dr hunter s thompson)

I am underneath my upside-down erector-set hospital bed
they grabbed him by the stack & swivel

this is when we learned the extent of his injuries. the good news was there was no head or spinal injury, and there was no skin injury because jay was wearing his racing leathers. the bad news, though, was he had two broken shoulders (one shattered), a punctured lung, and “probably most” of his ribs were broken.

get off my range, soldier
and his condition was deteriorating under the multiple trauma, so he “crashed” during the night. he stopped breathing and doctors couldn’t get his oxygen levels back up. they gave him an emergency chest tube and put him on a ventilator, which saved his life — and stabilized him enough to be driven to shock trauma. the family followed the ambulance in a small convoy of vehicles, in a surreal sunday morning drive through the beautiful virginia countryside.

(jonathan mark davis, mba)

let me lie still

“arching like a strychnine bow

(goodtime guiseppe)

not just a flesh wound

guy to the left, well, he shot gutshot guy to the right  . . .

2 doors down … cut in half by 2 trash trucks

(shock-trauma baltimore city)

“can we cut your leathers off?

suit yerself

“quartered like a December deer

(emt, summit point raceway, west virginia)

“if it was just you driving like a mad man and pushing the limit and taking the chance (again) of biting the big one; well hell, that’s life as usually…. but some of those people in your life, despite the strong outer appearance, would be screwed up with another go around like this.

(guiseppe labruno, ma, mba, professor of military science)

no flashing-life

no tunnel of

no out of body

no choir of

you ever see lonesome dove?  robert duvall and tommy lee jones as former texas rangers, tried to settle down in lonesome dove, couldn’t do it, took off for montana with their cattle, some others’ cattle and their 2 pigs.


well, down in the man- cave, it was them, me, mssrs oxy & contin, bag o’ peas, ms brasil’s ring on a chain, the family dog and my upper body.

mssrs duvall and jones did their own stunts.
 he broke the hell-bitch.

they crashed real horses into the real nueces river.

they dodged the water moccasins.

we signed up for summit school of the shenandoah.

we did our own stunts.

• the radii for turn 1:  110', 170', 550'

the radius of turn 2: 460′

• the radius of the unnumbered kink betweens turns 2 and 3:

he’s a rather self-absorbed lad


• the radius of turn: 235′

• the radius of the first unnumbered kink after turn 3:  660'

“why did we leave lonesome dove?


“what do you want legs for anyway? you don’t like to do nothing but sit on the porch and drink whiskey!

“soldiers will follow this officer out of sheer curiosity
(col dave w hunt)

left shoulder hysterical and useless



“… i helped her out of a jam i guess … but i must have used a little too much force.

(b dylan, blood on the tracks)

pneumothorax, ventilator, chest tube

broken right clavicle

shattered right scapula

ORIF steel plate, left shoulder

bicycle built for two

7x broken ribs & punctured lung

crash cart, intubation

sticker shock, sage consumer

(winchester shock trauma)

“he’ll rip your lungs out, Jim.



11 days

i’d like to meet his tailor

(w zevon)

(university of maryland shock trauma, bmd)

three weeks out from lonesome dove;

“sounds like a damn wilderness if you ask me. and we’re a shade old to start fightin’ indians all over again

she carried buckets of decision water

i looked over, said

“does this help you understand why we do this?”


(ma, me)

“i didn’t see no line gus. i was just trying to get through the territory without getting scalped, that’s all.

confidently piloting a motorcycle around the track

(jake spoon)

went to see her yesterday. she was tied to her hitching post, cud-chewing all non- chalant and all;

looked sideways at me, said

“you made this good bike do a bad thing, fucker

“all the muscles, tendons, ligaments attach to that part o the humerus
(physical therapist sabrina)
“thank you for not being all chicken-soup- for-the-xxx-soul

“… looks like a pile o pick-em-up sticks

i tried to stand, fell over on my side

“your insurance doesn’t kick in until day 61

i have seen the moment of my greatness flicker

state farm real- live-human

no skin grafts

my life as a pop-tart

all fingers, toes and teeth

this little piggy


“yer right about ma. still hasn’t made up her mind

a farewell to arms

days 12 à 40:

every 3 hour mark, the pain sweats, turn on the fans, the soaked t- shirts, the waiting for the 3 1⁄2 hour mark and its next promised oxycodone

the stabbing effort of rolling out of bed w ribs in best knot possible …

of trying to wipe my ass w the pre-arranged shite paper …for the l shoulder hysterical and useless
this is not cancer survival

the R shoulder just a capsule of broken-glass,
fingers doing the walking down my r buttock, the arm unsure of its place in time and space trying to shit the rabbit turds that the oxy* gives you,

the medicines’ mustard- metal stink of dirty diaper

sticker shock

constantly up my nose and

the perilous pulling of pajamas

rising from the one-holer

the constant

struggle to shit

the tickle of snot

is every ride a suicide?

lives of quiet desperation

“when i walk into a public restroom and hear crippled men whispering about the terrifying kawasaki triple… i have visions of compound femur-fractures and large black men in white hospital suits holding me down on a gurney while a nurse called “bess” sews the flaps of my scalp together with a stitching drill …
being shot out of a cannon ...

we take a manageable endeavor to its falling-off cliff-edge

not everybody who buys a high-dollar torque-brute yearns to go out in a ball of fire on a public street in l.a. …

unless you’re ready to go straight down the centerline with your nuts on fire and a silent scream in your throat …

when we ride very fast motorcycles, we ride with immaculate sanity

(dr hst, ssc)

“she’s philosophical … but she doesn’t watch anymore

charlie don’t surf

(mike, of wife robin at spr)

thanksgiving day

1st visit by my daughter where i could drive my own car

now let us say a prayer

before that every day in the bitch seat

back to the scene of the crime

this behavior not sanctioned by national need
airborne ranger
bessie got one o her eyes put out when she let her backbone slip
pressure to 30# front/rear

“this must never happen again, i can’t do this another time

pass with authority


“the deadbeat club

next time you’re on your own

(f schneider)

“nothing lasts

profound concussion

(m sweet)

“it wasn’t the same w ray … it wasn’t a first child

do versus be?

(daughter‘s mother)

i failed to dodge the water moccasin

i lost my dog in an 18 mos fever o bad dreams and rshp meltdowns, sawdust, drywall and job disasters, churning under my resume w a rented tiller¿the search for the edge of pain, unless it’s not all flat-earth

sunning one’s lizard self on the deck … burn in the sutures

ex the oxy*

mad max helmet no longer sea-worthy

walking without steadying

non-rabbit turds

anti-depressants, valium

reaching overhead

and gobs of torque

opening the dishwasher

wiping my ass

i have seen the eternal footman

hold my coat


reach for seatbelt, close the car door

sit in a restaurant

put on a t-shirt



brother 1



bet the family farm



3 years ex post factopenniless w 3 concussions under my belt and 11 arthritis seeds fingered into the soil

good times

smokey twitch-hovers outside the waiting room


i don’t have any of my oxycontin

big momma got called into the chapel …

… won’t she ever stop?

me and the turds on the urine-soaked deck

lacking advance directives

brother 2, the red bull, the vodka, the childrens’ halloween parade

what it would take to git back on the track

choose yer poison

9% rain-soaked grade

keeloids stiff every morning ¿and why not killed

big deal of the day i washed my hair

that summer 2006 i rode bessie lane-splittingly down 295
i think i need to lie down

upper skeleton like pick-up sticks

grocery shopped for the first time in 6 months

back on the horse
an r6 at a buck-thirty

didn’t vomit

never took my dog to walter reed

damaged child w/o advanced directives

the salvage company came by to pick up big boned bessie : (

they paid the storage fee but……there are

still 2 outstanding estimates, 1 complete and the other road worthy.

this aint no disco, this aint no party

the road worthy one is your responsibility and the other should be covered by insurance.

give your adjuster a call so that we can finalize this.

ah yes, the joy of being a rider when surrounded by those that are convinced you are out of your mind.

recent injury only reinforces their perspective. i feel your pain 🙂

no temper tantrums, no lovey-dovey

(d byrne)

i do not fear death i will however, do all possible to avoid death prematurely. fear is the enemy, not death, fear on the road leads to death, therefore i will not let fear be my master, i will master it.

headshrinker …

counter-conditioning or

other corrective shoes

a ventilator tube doesn’t follow the path of least resistance to git where it’s goin’

no more glee club

don’t run the over-sized tires, 180s on those 5″ rims

like a bird without a beak

swings a leg over a motorcycle to compete in anger is dancing with fate

“I saw a rain- dirty valley, you, you saw brigadoon

(k wallinger)

sometimes it seems like grave digging is all we do around here, don’t it cholo? what do you think happens when we die?

not much. you are just dead.


stay on the gas until you see god

maybe it’s not as big a change as we think. maybe you just go back to where you lived or near your family, or wherever you were the happiest. only you’re just a spirit now… and you don’t have the troubles the living have.

(clara allen)

hell, boys. i’d damn sight rather be hung by my friends

there was a slight setback

(jake spoon)

“i loved augustus mcrae, but i wasn’t willing to share him with you every time you decided to ride off on some adventure. i despised you for what you were then, captain call; and i despise you for what you’re doing!

(clara allen)