Then he told me a story about a kid who flew in between him and his buddy one time and clipped his handle bars. He said he almost lost it and hit one of the metal road markers. He jumped back on his bike, tore after the kid and caught up to him when the kid ran out of gas. He said when he was finished with the bike it wasn't a bike anymore, and when he was finished with the kid he needed an ambulance. Only after that did he realize that when he hit the road marker he cut off two of his fingers and had to go back to find them
(yeah right).We walked out together and I started putting on my gear.
Then he said I would never wanna meet him on a dark empty road at night, even if we were going the opposite direction. He said he'd just toss up a can of corn (who the heck carries around a can of corn on their bike?!) into me and let me see the damage it did.
As he told this last anecdote he climbed onto his hardley road king wearing only cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Right after he finished he revved it and tore out of the parking lot.
After all this part of me wanted to bust out laughing. But then another part of me wanted to cry at the sad state of our lifestyle. And a small part of me (a very small part) was a little bit worried about meeting someone like him when there was no one around to witness what might happen.
Hey, I work for one of only 2 police forces in the world where they don't routinely arm us with guns - now that's hard!
