Polska Brain Jelly

New Faithful

by on Jun.28, 2012, under Gripes

I actually have things to say today!

First, my rant.  I’ve said this before, but the driving competence in this area is lacking.  It varies from people cutting others off, speeding up to keep someone from changing lanes and never, ever merging properly.  However, I think my personal favorite is the jack-hole who drives in the left hand lane because he’s doing 64.5 mph while the person in the right hand lane is doing 64 mph.  Meanwhile there’s about a million cars behind the douche-bucket waiting to get to where they need to go at an optimal 75 mph (or higher).  Twenty miles down the road when the fart-knocker finally manages to pass, they don’t move over to the right hand lane.  No, they stay, making everyone behind have to pass them on the right.  Not only that, but when you pass the donkey-lover they are staring straight ahead either oblivious to their idiocy or pretending they can’t feel the thousands of angry eyes boring holes into the back of their head.  This, of course, adds insult to injury because I have so very thoughtfully mimed my thoughts of their existence and what they should with themselves in the future as I zoom past accelerating to a realistic speed.  I really wonder what these people are thinking, then realize that they probably don’t think.  They are, what a friend of mine would term, useless breathers.

Okay, enough of the rant.  Now on to some comedy.

I went and had some dinner with friends tonight and took the Harley out for a spin.  On the way home I needed to get some gas.  Pull up to the pump and lift the seat to remove the gas cap.  As it normally does, it makes a sucking sound as I unscrew the cap.  Not thinking anything of this (remember, it doesn’t this every time) I twist and pull.  Only the sucking doesn’t stop as I pull off the cap.  In fact, it intensifies, and as the sucking grows I take an involuntary step back.  It’s a good thing I did, because a geyser of gasoline spews out of my bike and all over the seat and cement in front of me, not to mention a little on myself.  It’s quite impressive the height the petrol spout reached and who knew that aerated gas was so white and foamy looking.  It all happened in slow motion once I realized what was about to happen and had no way to stop it, in fact the frothy spew of gas is still embedded in my memory as clear as when it happened.  It’s really cool how that works.  Anyway, I cleaned up and filled the tank then crossed my fingers that I wouldn’t catch on fire when I cranked up the engine.  Fortunately I didn’t, but I did check the mirror a few times for smoke as I rode home.

So, while I’m at home later than I should be and smelling of gasoline, I didn’t catch fire, which I will count as a win.


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