Sunday, June 8, 2008

Damages... motorcycles and barbed-wire fences don't mix

I am a very accident prone boy. Maybe its because I have such a bad sense of balance, or perhaps I am inherently lazy, and take too many shortcuts and manage to hurt myself. Unknown reasons really.

There have been quite a few semi-major injuries that have led to some lifelong problems now - mainly lots of sprained ankles. They are so weak that I can sprain them standing still (a la my sister's wedding).

But the most amount of damage I caused myself involved a motorbike, a hangover, and no ability to ride said motorbike.

A group of uni friends all went out to one girls family cattle property near the Canarvon Gorge in western Queensland close to Christmas. We all arrived and set up camp, and started drinking, talking crap and shocking each other with a cattle prod (it really fucking hurts btw).

The next morning I proclaimed that I was gonna learn how to ride a motor bike. "Sure, we'll show you," said the host family. So they took as all out to the air strip and let me get on the bike. "Here's the accelerator, here's the brake, here's the clutch," they demonstrated... and I was away.

I managed to get in two laps of the air field. At a very respectable speed. No wobbles, so crunching of gears or over revving. I was doing very well considering it was my first time.

"Go do one more so we can get a pic," called out some one, so I complied and turned it around for one more shot. Except I got stuck on a muddy ditch, beside the air strip and accelerated too hard. I suppose a bit of panic set in because I saw that I was getting very close to the fence, but I got confused and instead of braking, slammed into the fence, continuing to drag the right side of my body along it for around 50 metres.

Needless to say... I did some damage. Four strands of barbed wire, four fairly major areas of damage to my body. Right bicep, stomach, knee/calf and upper thigh (stopping just beside my peen).

And here's a picture...

Because we were in the middle of nowhere, it took two and a half hours to get to a hospital, and then it took almost three hours to stitch me up. There were 85 stitches to the knee/calf/thigh.

I then spent the remaining 10 days of the holiday stuck at the homestead while everyone else went off hiking and swimming in creeks.

Quite possibly the worst holiday ever.

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