My brother-in-law bought himself a motorcycle and asked if we could keep it at our place for a couple days before the weekend when he'd be able to take it down to his parents. I suggested that our back patio would be a suitable place for it. He brought it over fairly late at night so it just appeared out back.
"Boys. Would you like to see what death looks like?" I asked. What boy having spent the entire decade of his existence imagining sticks and fingers as guns would say no? So Bird and I took them out back stopping in front of the large object sitting on our patio covered with a tarp. I gave a "Voila!" as I threw the cover off with a flourish. And by threw off the cover I mean to say they stood there waiting a couple minutes while I fumbled around trying to find the clips that were holding the tarp down and tied together under the bike before I fought to untangle it from the fenders, windscreen, pipes, rack, etc....
Sam wanted to sit on it. I made him wait until I could help balance the bike to be certain it didn't tip over. Bird looked at me like I was crazy and asked, "What are you doing? You're lighting a fire under him." I replied, "No I'm not," a little sheepishly. With nothing but a raised eyebrow she noted silently to me "...with this one?..."
We drew the most horrible picture we could. "Remember how you fall down when walking and skin your knees? Imagine what will happen when you're going down the highway at 60mph and fall off your bike stripping all the skins from your bones!"
His reply was simply, "That's what you wear leather for." Uh...now we regret pointing out all the 'dumb' motorcyclists that don't wear leather or helmets and the 'smart' ones that garb themselves appropriately.
As he dismounted the bike I distinctly heard him mumble, "Cool."
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