Was it me?

[BroosterB1]

I thought about where to post this. Since in a way it is advice and it is about kilts......

Was it me?

January 2, 2009. I love these kinds of days. The day between a holiday and a weekend, when the expectation of work and the reality of work, are two different things. Most of the time we have our time tables, to do lists, and things we have to get done; but, every now and then you have a day like today, going into the weekend after a major holiday. A day designed to sleep in.

Yesterday, every thing was about my wife, today would be about me! She had “forced” me to work on re-upholstering two ’50 café bar stools, saying things like “A New Year, A new Start!”; just what putting vinyl on barstools has to do with a New Year, beats me but I am sure it makes perfect logic to you. Nursing a finger wounded in the course of the attack of the barstools, I figured I could get way with doing nothing, at least for the day.

Least thing I could do for the cause was walk the dogs. I mean I’m not totally selfish, they need the exercise. So, after weaning a friend off the phone, I set out. I purposely decided to leave the phone and the sporran at home, which at this view point seems to have been a mistake.

Bedecked in my brand new Royal Stewart, a nice gray sweater, gray hose and my red crocks (yes, I said crocks), I took two dogs for a nice little ramble. Headed off to the ditch bank, then south along an irrigation ditch line; here in the Southwest called an Acequia. These inter-connecting water courses are the life blood of agriculture in the high Sonoran desert, and because you have to have access, most have a nice dirt road on either side of the watercourse; a perfect place to walk dogs, ride horses, or just stroll.

These water ways are often interconnecting with bike paths, so when I hit a major one, I decided to do a square walk, rather than an out and back. Turning west onto the bike path, I ran into a couple of people, both pedestrian and a bike riders. This is usually not a problem, with one small aside. The German Sheppard. The one who attacks the vacuum cleaner. The one who thinks bike riders are appreciations from Hell. Opps.

Actually we made it quite a ways before something happened. Walking with The Sheppard on a very short leash we were able to make it quite a way before Kaiser decided he had to try.

“Lone biker, head down, totally unobservant…if I time it just right I can lunge right into…arghgg Dad’s knee.”

I was not about to let that happen. So when I timed my knee and caught the old boy, I was feeling rather smug. Tragedy avoided, I pulled Kaiser back to head down the path, only to see out of my right eye the biker completely lock up his front wheel and do a compete header on to the bike path.

To say I’m stunned is a bit of an understatement.

One minute I’m walking the dog, and the next I’m doing First Aid. This guy is out cold, or so it looks, so I drop both dog leashes and head to see if he is ok. Both dogs get the idea this is something different, and so, do what I tell them “Stay!”. Buy this time I would have been pulling one, my first aid kit, and two, the phone out my Sporran… but no…..No sporran!

By the time I get to this guy, he’s starting to make some movement, so I tell him to take it easy. He moans, and rises him self to his knees. I tell him to take it easy, and just take his time. He slowly pulls himself to sitting on his knees.

The Bike helmet has given its life for its intended purpose, crunched in on the high right side, this one is due for retirement. The rider starts looking for his glasses, which I pick up and hand to him. One lens is gone and the frames are history as well. I spy the lens pick it up and hand it to the man.

I keep asking him if he’s all right, should his need to sit down, and most if all if I need to get someone for help. He’s a trooper, saying no he’s alright, everything is Ok. I stay with him just to make sure. He finally gets his gear in order, takes a drink of water from a bottle on the bike, dusts him self off, picks up the bike and says if he keeps it to ten mile an hour hill be home in 40 minutes.

At this point he says “what happened”. He takes a look at the Sheppard, the daschund, then very slowly me. The Sheppard is sitting down with one of his “Gee Dad, what’s Up” dufus looks, the Daschund is sniffing wonderful road smells wondering which shoulder the dead squirrel will smell best on, and me. 5’10 240lbs in a grey sweater, grey hose and A KILT! A Kilt without a Sporran!! A RED KILT WITHOUT A SPORRAN! I knew what caused the accident. He knew what caused the accident! THE DOGS KNEW WHAT CAUSED THE ACCIDENT!

The look on his face was let’s say enlightening. He didn’t want to look, but he had to; just a quick one no more; Yes, it’s true HE”S WEARING A RED KILT WITHOUT A SPORRAN! Fear, shock, discomfort, fight? Flight! Recognition of a plan. “Excuse me, I really must get going…eyes down, don’t look, don’t look.. Red frigging kilt! What next a red frigging kilt! Get on the bike, stirrups, left side right side. Ok, Ready to go…eyes down, eyes down..last look….RED FRIGING KILT!

And off he went. Head down, looking back at the guy….. with the two dogs…. and the red frigging kilt. As fast as it had happened it was gone. He was off, and I stood there.

We walked home.

Moral; Your Sporran, Never leave home with out it.

[Nick the DSM]

*face palm face palm*

never leave the sporran alone! karma will follow you!

[Bugbear]

I doubt you should go mud bugging down there in a kilt either...

[Nighthawk]

I doubt you should go mud bugging down there in a kilt either...

No doubt. Yes, sporran... Never leave home without it. Agreed.

[Thunderbolt]

Funny....I guess you'll never know.

I've taken quite a few nasty spills on my mountain bike. I can just imagine waking up from a wicked spill, seeing a guy in a kilt and thinking I need to get to the hospital...NOW.

T.

[Frank McGrath]

That's all well and good, but where can you hide a horse on a walking path?





Great Story.

Frank

[BroosterB1]

That's all well and good, but where can you hide a horse on a walking path?





Great Story.

Frank

That's what editors get paid for.

[English Bloke]

Tremendous! Great story.

[Weasel Mender]

Be glad it was a bike not a BULL

[Tartan Hiker]

I caused a car/ambulance collision by sitting on the porch playing a banjo.

Last week in DC my kilt caused a teenage girl to walk headlong into a display case at the Museum of Natural History.

Maybe there is a lesson in there somewhere.