Firstly: there is a marked lack of sympathy for old fools and there aren’t any old fools more stupid than old motorcycle fools. For most people, I am in a category of stupid unparalleled since Evil Knievel. And Sally is the poor, put-upon, long-suffering Mrs. Knievel. Sally gets sympathy!

Secondly, even I am not sympathetic to me. You know you have been an idiot when you can’t even muster any self pity. Self pity usually comes so easily to me. In fact, I find myself still shaking my head in disbelief. “What kinda nut-bar would crack a wheelie on a bike he has never ridden before?”

Maybe there is more to it at a mystical, spiritual, finding-God level, eh?

As for the back itself, it is a solid, pulsating mound of tension and pain but every day it gets better than the day before. At this rate I’ll be fine by September. November at the latest. 2012.

The leg burn, on the other hand is a mess. It keeps weeping some kinda goo and, when I sleep, my legs stick together until I move. Then, OMYGAWD! There is definitely a price for being a dope and I am currently paying it.

“We don’t feel sorry for you, you doofus!”

Neither should you. Nor am I asking. I am just telling you this so that you do not make the same mistake as I the next time you have a motorcycle at your disposal. If I can save just one stupid senior citizen from the crushing humiliation of a wheelie-gone-bad, my suffering will not be in vain.

Now listen to me: Motorcycles don’t kill people! Stupidity kills people. (‘Course, I am so stupid that you shouldn’t listen to even that!)

And, if stupidity doesn’t get you, your wife might!

PS (ads pop up on my Blogger account and, when I posted this, a confirmation of the posting popped up and it contained an ad. Make a Will.com. Seems fitting, don’t you think?)