Books. Bikes. Boomsticks.
Self-Checkout aisles are like wheelchair ramps for introverts.
I disremember when it was that Mario Andretti made his comment, "There are two kinds of drivers at Indianapolis: Those who HAVE hit the wall, and those who WILL hit the wall."That carries over to all hazardous activities. If you stay with them long enough, the odds will catch up.But, the guy went out doing what he loved best, and he went quickly. Too soon, I guess, but it beats months in a hospital bed, wired and tubed.
Tam, I seem to recall you mentioning a certain bike incident not too long ago that sounds somewhat similar?Pins, screws, broken ribs and road rash if I recall correctly.Barbs from a stingray is pretty much in the same ballpark for me. I'll avoid both, thanks anyway. :)
It's a surprise because it was a *stingray*. Al frikken' ROKER swam with stingrays. They don't usually kill people, there's something like 17 recorded incidences total of sringray deaths. Holy crap, opmmqoqu?
Yeah, looks like it winds up in the "freak accident" category.But hey, when it's your time, it's your time.
"b&n" is right, Tam.Yo, Art: I didn't hear Mario, but I heard it fifteen years ago when I started riding motorcycles: "There are two kinds of bikers: those who've been down, and those who're going down."Two crushed vertebrae and a broken hip later (along with a whole bag of scrapes & scars), I got the point and gave 'em up. I took up airplanes, and felt a lot safer, but it's not like I never thought about the possibility of drilling an expensive hole in the ground.You take a risk when you get out of bed in the morning. We start the calculations from there, on. Everybody gets to go to hell in their own go-cart, and we all do it, one way or another. He made his own call on the thing, and, in the end, that's about as good as it gets.
Don't get me wrong; I fully expect the "I told you sos" when I go asphalt surfing.Tease the bulls and sometimes you get trampled...Some of us just like tweaking fate's tail; and even when reasonable precautions are taken, fate'll occasionally turn and bite.
I think given the choice, he would have chosen that way to expire rather than a plane crash or cancer or any number of grim alternatives, even if he did turn into a cautionary tale. But let's admit this - he was waaay more fun to watch that Marlin Perkins. "Crikey! This croc looks really angry! Let's poke it with a stick!"
Oh, totally.When Dale Earnhardt checked out and everybody south of the Mason-Dixon got all weepy, I was like "So? Can you think of a better way for a stock car driver to die than in the last turn of the last lap at the biggest race of the year?"I just refuse to get all Princess-Di-Just-Croaked tearful when someone who lived large and laughed while having fun doing damfool stunts finally rolls snake eyes...
I gotta admit, if there was ANY way for him to go, this has got to be the best way, doing what he loved right up to the end. The only sad thing for me is the fact that he left a young wife and two small children still on this earth. Still, he left a great legacy for them, which is alot more than many other widowed women (and men) have of their departed spouses.
This has to go into the "It is your time" column. He just happened to get into the right position just when the ray got annoyed/spooked, and got hit at just the right angle...I've gotta ask, anyone know if he was talking when it swatted him?
he died as he lived. it sure as hell beats rotting to death from cancer in a hospice ward.
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