Phil and I were finally able to touch base via text messaging. He spent the afternoon asking people at gas stations and emergency rooms if they heard, saw, knew anything about a down motorcycle while I spent the afternoon trying to get in touch with Phil, AKRider, or anybody.
All's well that ends well, but holy hell what a stress ball each of us had become. Me, cuz I got knocked down by a semi-tractor and thought I was gonna get run over. And Phil cuz he couldn't find his wing man and went from hospital to E.R. looking and thinking that he might have to call my wife and tell her something that no one wants to tell anyone.
I guess the hotel has a bunk payphone cuz I called Phil a bazillion times and it just rang and rang. I emailed cuz that was to be the back up to the back up. Then I tried to text message from a computer to a cell phone, which you can do if you know the cell provider. Guess what I didn't know. Then perhaps the adrenaline left my bloodstream cuz it occurred to me that I could approach someone about using their phone to send a text to Phil. It took him two shakes of a lamb's tail to get back to me, and there was much rejoicing.
Meanwhile I sent an email to ace motorcycle mechanic Rob and he was able to troubleshoot from AK. And lookee there, the clutch whatchmajigger's messed up. Plug that in, cross your fingers and kapow, we're back in business. Now we're chilling in a hotel and planning tomorrow. Crazy.
The worst story about me
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