Ouch - Milk with Pizza?

Yes - that's a brake lever sticking through this poor dude's wrist. No, it's not me. Freak accident and even freakier picture. Click here for even more pictures and full story. Yeah, it's gross - but come on - you know you're gonna look.

I don't know why, but this picture reminds me of something I witnessed years ago. Maybe because that incident featured dirt bikes - the moto variety (indirectly) - and a slit wrist as well.

Let's spin the time machine back to 1979 or so. Things are getting dreamy, Rush is playing in the background.....

Pals and I were riding our dirt motorcycles at the local dirt pit, affectionally known as Mine Hill Pits, even though they were technically located in Kenvil, New Jersey. A few hundred acres of free-for-all fun for dirt motorcycles, Jeeps, skeet shooters and late night teenage parties. The good old days before land access hassles and the threat of lawsuits at every turn.

As was the occasional custom, midway through a day of slinging dirt bikes around, someone went for a pizza run. As a side note, whoever was suckered into the pizza run, usually got screwed money wise as well - since the donated pile of crumbled bills never seemed to match the total. Stupid fun times when everyone in the group was about 18 years old.

When the food arrived and sodas were being distributed - someone being a wise-ass threw Ken's milk container into the weeds as a joke (milk with pizza?). A few other wise-asses ran for it, along with Ken - who promptly tripped running in motocross boots. All pretty funny, until we realized he'd fallen into a pile of broken glass - wrist first.

Ken jumps up saying he cut his wrist - holding it super tight with his other hand. We thought he was kidding, until he removed the vise like grip with his good hand, and blood starts spurting from a huge gash in his wrist - scary amount of blood gushing out. Holy crap.

Someone pulls a t-shirt from somewhere and it's quickly wrapped around the wrist - and it quickly turns bright red. This is long before cell phones and even though Kenvil isn't exactly the Yukon, we're a few miles from help.

Frank, who's brand new Volkswagen Scirocco is handily waiting to roll, is mentioned as the best emergency vehicle. Frank balks at Ken bleeding all over his factory fresh interior, so at this point - Mark, Ken's brother - is about to ride Ken on the back of his dirt bike to the police station, a few miles away. Frank relents and finally gives Ken a ride to the hospital.

I wound up riding Ken's new Husqvarna CR 390 back to his house. Mark being pissed that Ken wanted me to pilot it back home, instead of his own brother. Man, that Husky was nice. The memory is vague, but my bike must have been transported home on someone's trailer. Some of us rode directly to the "Pits" and others used trucks or trailers to haul their bikes there.

Mark and Ken lived in my neighborhood and when I checked in that night, Ken was sporting a full arm cast. Besides cutting his wrist artery, a few ligaments were severed as well. Double ouch.

I always knew milk and pizza don't go together.