It was a very proud motorcyclist who was explaining how many electronic friends he had on his mega sport bike.
The power was limited in the first two gears. In top gear the top speed was adjusted to 299 km / h because 300 km / h is too fast. He had wheely control, stoppie control, traction control, a slope protractor, an anti-hopping clutch and ABS. One of the listeners interrupted the hymn: “Do you know what to do? You just have to learn to drive! ”
End of argument. That super sporting event is something that you have to understand and I don't get it. At least not on public roads.
"Look, this is how my dog is when she is pooping," an older fellow villager concluded when he saw such a barb suppository pass by.
Yet that struggling is not so bad. In the Vosges we were on three classic tour twins. On a short straight, we were passed by a bunch of clowns with humps in the necks of their racing overalls. The funny thing about short straights in the Vosges is that there is usually a pretty brave corner behind it. Number uno made the corner easily. Driver two barely made it. Number three… Not.
A modern super sport is closely molded all around with high-quality plestik. And such a thing explodes like a fragmentation grenade when it hits a wall. The rider chose the sky and disappeared from the screen.
We stopped to take a look over the edge of the exit. The sky stormer lay there and he did not seem to want to leave just like that. So we went first to get some debris off the road. Before you know it, such a detour on the other side of the wall is full of crashed road users. We received help from a few drivers and 112 was called.
With a diver and a firefighter in our group we are reasonably First Aid resistant and went downstairs to see if there was anything to help there. You can say what you want, but a modern high-tech motorcycle outfit protects very well. The expensive full-face helmet had a nice tap, the right hind leg of the driver pointed backwards. We thought that might be the case with extra sporty riders. He had lost a glove and his hand was sort of crushed. Our Icarus was still conscious. He had a pulse and no blood came out of his mouth or ears. So actually he was fine.
Gendarmes arrived. A trauma helicopter arrived and landed on the road. It all became really dynamic. We thought it was time to continue driving.
In the evening at the pizza, Mark said, pointing to the filling of his food: "Look, this is how his hand looked". It became late and pleasant there in Plombières les Bains.