Riding home Friday at 5am after a big night of ‘leaving drinks’ for Kat, I noticed a Porsche parked with its hazards on. As I rolled along, this moto appeared behind it. The machine was destroyed, squashed to half normal size with the engine sitting next to the frame. I was a bit shocked and swung a u-turn to get another look and maybe snap a picture. While I’m looking at the wreckage a guy walks up along the footpath..

“There was a guy attached to that” I say, in disbelieving tones.

“Yes. My son.” states the guy.

Well, that’s not very awkward is it? I’m assuming the rider was mince meat and I’ve got his Dad walking around what’s left of his bike.

“Um, is he okay?” I asked, trying to sound hopeful.

“Yeah, just some scratches”

“Really?!?! Jeez, he’s so bloody lucky!!”

I couldn’t believe the guy was okay! I was sure he’d be dead. He must have left the bike before the bike hit the pole and disintegrated.

“I’m just looking for a trainer.”

“Well, good to hear he’s okay”

“Yeah, thanks. Safe ride home”

His Dad was walking around looking for his son’s shoe!! I couldn’t believe how lucky he was – just some scratches!

I took the photos Friday night as they still hadn’t shifted the wreck. Another guy was snapping pictures and I told him about meeting the rider’s Dad. He was amazed, as I say.

Not like the motorbiker we saw flying through the air in front of our house a few weeks ago. He was a bit cut up and looked like he’d broken some bones..

Ride safe.