" I may need you to take me to hospital..."
says the distant voice of The Bulk from a roadside mobile phone call.
I set off with the trailer to pick up any wreckage of the recently run-in Honda motorcycle.
Rounding a corner I see the new-look slimmer Bulk kneeling before two uniformed Police like in some Latin American execution of street urchins.
However this position is something to do with suspected broken ribs from a ploughing match conducted up the grass verge.
The other vehicle involved was nowhere to be seen since it had passed that way completely on the other side of the road.
The explanation could be a jet lagged Continental convinced they were still on another continent or simply a case of mental abberation.
1 comment:
An even greater question remains over how I managed to walk away almost unharmed. It is something which I will give thanks for each day from now on. Your title couldn't be more accurante.
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