My wife found this story and it compelled me to post it here. You have the right not to ware the gear but are you willing to go trough what this little lady did if you drop a bike at a high speed?

Written by Brittany Morrow

Wednesday, 04 October 2006

A while back, the Speedfreak staff was cruising the internet, when we came upon a photograph. A pretty blonde girl in a topless photo. But wait…what’s more? The pretty girl is covered in road rash. Speedfreak went on the search to find out the story of this girl, how it happened, what’s rumors and what’s truth. With some searching of the internet, we were able to track down our girl, and Speedfreak had the chance to sit down and find out the true story of how a strong soul bounces back from near death.

ONE YEAR HAS PASSED

It’s hard to look in the mirror and think that my scars are already anentire year old. Touching my stomach and rib cage, I can’t imagine looking this way and feeling this pain for the rest of my life. I still feel as if at any moment I will wake up from this terrible dream and be comfortable in my own skin once again. Knowing that it’s real, that there is nothing I can do to change it, I am remindedof my mistakes every minute of everyday. I am also reminded how lucky I am to be alive as I close my eyes and remember why I still feel pain after an entire year of healing. Imagining that if I hadnot survived the accident, I wouldn’t have anything to touch at all, I smile when my fingers run over a thick layer of scar tissue in place of my once soft skin. I know my life has a purpose, and I strive everyday to live up to the task that has been placed at my feet.

THE ACCIDENT

It was a beautiful Sunday morning even through my blurred vision. I was on the back of my friend Shaun’s GSXR 750 and was excited to be on a sport bike, even if it was as a passenger, after a long streak of no riding whatsoever. I had shed my prescription glasses for a pair of sunglasses, my cowboy hat for an oversized helmet, and quickly thrown on a pair of capri jeans, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt over my bikini. I thought nothing of the fact that I had practically no protection against the asphalt if anything were to happen. I figured that we couldn’t get into a wreck, it simply wouldn’t happen to me. It’s amazing how fast life came at me that day.

Approaching mile marker seven on highway 550, I noticed that I had to start fighting the wind to stay behind Shaun without pulling on him too much. I placed my hands on the gas tank and pushed myself into him as much as possible without crowding him. As we came around to the right and went down the hill, we kept accelerating. I was scared, but thought I could handle the force of the wind as it suddenly picked up much more than in the moments before. I started to slide back on the seat and felt the cool air fill the small space between my chest and Shaun’s back.

I felt a rush of wind hit my face like a brick and our bodies separated in an instant; my visor had come completely open. The force pulled on my face and helmet so hard that it sent my head up and backwards, ripping my entire body off the back seat with it. I remember thinking that if I grabbed Sean’s t-shirt I would pull him down with me, but it was already too late to try and grab a hold of him. I was only in the air for a spilt second, but an eternity of thoughts ran through my mind. I had no idea what excessive speed I was about to hit the ground at or the damage it would do to my body, I just thought about how my life had led to that point. I remembered the basics of surviving a fall from a horse without injury, which I had done a few times in the previous year, and simply let myself go. I knew there was nothing else I could do.

When I hit the ground, it was as if every breath I had ever taken rushed out of me in an instant. I could feel every inch of my body hitting the road; tumbling, sliding and grinding into the unforgiving surface. In my helmet, which seemed so small and yet completely empty, I could hear my whimpers as I fought to breath and my prayer to God as I gave into the asphault. In a matter of seconds, I had come to the conclusion that I was going to die, and I was ok with it. I knew this was far worse than anything I had ever gone through and I was convinced I would not live to see the next day. My eyes were closed as I finished my 522 foot tumble down highway 550. I never lost consciousness, but I remember wishing that I had.

At first I couldn’t feel anything. A few moments passed before anyone was at my side, and I had the chance to try and move myself. Immediately, I could tell that I had lost my left shoe as my toes were burning on the hot road. My right foot felt stiff, completely unmovable, and I thought it was probably broken. I noticed that my knees were uncovered when the little pieces of what I thought were gravel scraped against my skin, only to find out later that they were my actual kneecaps grinding against the pavement below them. My right arm was trapped underneath me and my shoulder felt hot. My left pinky was the most noticeable pain in those first few minutes, a throbbing and stabbing pain, as it bled profusely right in front of my face. I could smell my blood as it pooled beneath me on the road.

By the time the ambulance came and rolled me onto my back, removed my helmet, and called the helicopter, I felt as if I had been cooking on the street for hours. Every nerve ending in my body was on fire; tingling, scorching, and burning. I had not gone into shock, and the adrenaline had worn off almost instantly. Not being able to move was the worst of it. I wanted to pull my arm out from underneath me. I wanted to get off that hot road. I wanted the sun to stop shining so brightly on my naked back. I wanted everything to just go away. But it didn’t. The people who sat on that road with me and came to my rescue saved my life. I wanted to die, but they wouldn’t let me give up, they wouldn’t let me close my eyes and go to sleep.

The helicopter ride was fast. The morphine had kicked in just around the time we landed at the hospital, and the rest is somewhat of a blur. I remember hearing a doctor saying I had lost my entire left breast. I remember another asking me if my family had been called. A third doctor asked if she could take pictures of my wounds for documentation. When it came time to clean off my skin, the doctors decided that a surgical debreedment of the dead tissue was necessary, along with invasive repair to my pinky, right big toe, and left side from hip to armpit. I don’t even remember being put under, and the rest is lost in the six hour surgery that followed.

THE HOSPITAL

I woke up wrapped like a mummy. I was on my back in an air bed, in a room I had never seen. Did I dream that Shaun had come and held my hand? Why were my parents here? I didn’t know what was going on, so I tried to sit up. Then I felt the intense pain on my back, my side, my shins, my feet, my thigh, my hip, my forearms, my wrists, my shoulder, my fingertips, my ribcage, my stomach, and my chest. It all came at me in one large rush, and I knew exactly where I was and remembered what had happened. I spent the next three weeks waking up to the exact same confusion, rush of pain, and realization of my surroundings. My condition never seemed to change for the better, no matter how many times I went through the process of attempting to sleep it off. The worst part about the pain was that it never completely subsided unless I was sleeping, and I had nightmares of the accident every time I slept. I couldn’t escape what had happened to me. On the rare good days, my Dad would brush my hair for hours; it was the only thing that helped me forget what I was going through.

My road rash was so severe that my skin was not going to grow back on its own.I had lost too much surface area for the doctors to simply suture me together and send me home. After the blood loss had been controlled, the skin loss needed to be addressed. I was to receive full thickness skin grafts. Literally, the doctors had only 2 places on my body to harvest healthy skin. My thighs were the only two places that had not received any abrasions. In order to help my open wounds heal, the doctors had to cut off a thick layer of healthy skin from my thighs and place it over my burns, surgically stapling the new skin in place. This was the only way to “fix” me, and I didn’t even have enough skin to graft all of my wounds at once. The doctors had to choose which areas to graft first, and which ones would have to wait.

Wound vac: a slang medical term that will give me goose bumps for the rest of my life. When a patient receives a skin graft, a suction cup is placed over the completed surgery in order to increase blood flow from under the new skin. These devices are called wound vacuums, and they ensure that the burn tissue does not die, but rather joins with the new skin to create a layer of dermis where none would have grown without the graft surgery. It feels like a leech, a constant sucking on the most painful abrasion you’ve had in your entire life. Multiply your worst skinned knee as a kid by 50, add it to 55 percent of your body, and then let someone suck on it with a handheld vacuum for 24 hours a day; only then will you know what it is to experience a wound vacuum on a fresh skin graft. Each graft received a dose of the painful sucking and after three weeks I was free from the noisy machines.

The only thing worse than the wound vacuums were the dressing changes. Even thinking about the pain today makes me sick to my stomach. In the areas the doctors were not able to graft within the first three weeks: my back, chest, rib cage, side, and stomach, they did daily dressing changes to make sure the wounds we being kept clean. My bandages acted as my skin where the graft surgery had not yet taken place. Every time the doctors changed my dressings, it was as if they were ripping off my skin. The oxygen hitting the open burns was enough to make me scream. Cleaning the wounds with water would send me into a rage. It is safe to say I would have rather been lying on that road again than go through a daily dressing change. This lasted the entire two months I spent in the hospital.

Physical therapy, as motivating as it was supposed to be, was just as painful as anyone can imagine. Struggling to sit up in bed, hold myself up without help, and lay back down without hurting the open burns on my back proved itself to be a daunting task. Attempting to stretch my skin, which was tough and thick as leather, once the grafts were slightly healed, made me wince and fear that I would lose all motion in my wrists. I remember getting dizzy just from trying to stand up, blacking out and throwing up from a wheelchair ride down the hall, and crying at night because I couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom on my own. All the abilities I took for granted in my everyday life had come back to haunt me, to teach me a lesson on why I should be thankful for every second I am breathing.

Everyday I would dread the moment the doctors came into my room. Whether they were coming to do a conscious sedation for my daily dressing change, whisk me off to another surgery, or put me through physical therapy, my attitude worsened everyday towards the people who were trying to save my skin. It drove me to act bitter towards the people who cared about me the most; my parents were there every day and I know it must have been difficult for them to put up with me. The pain I went through pushed me into a deep depression, but I refused to be put on medication for anything of that nature. I was taking 20 pills with breakfast and dinner every day, I didn’t need to add to that number. I was asked several times if I wanted to talk to a psychologist about the accident, talk about the nightmares my nurses always reported me having at night, but I denied the willing listener. In short, I made sure I paid for my mistakes dearly, not only physically, but emotionally as well, and everyone around me could see the old Brittany fading away.

After my final skin graft surgery on November 16th, I woke up feeling as if my back had been completely replaced. The noticeable difference between the open wound and the grafted burn was enough to lift my spirits. I was able to lay comfortably for the first time in two months. I knew the time had come for me to get out of thehospital and start the real healing: returning to my normal life. I had to beg my doctors to let me go home. I couldn’t stand the thought of returning to a physical rehabilitation hospital. With fresh donor sites on my left thigh and a throbbing pain worse than most I had felt, I walked down the hall on the fifth floor three days after surgery so I could go home. I cried with relief when they signed my release paperwork.

GOING HOME

I walked slowly into my house for the first time in over two months. The smell alone was enough to make me smile, as Thanksgiving dinner was being prepared for the next day. The warm air, the sound of my dog yelping at my return, the softness of my own bed sheets, and the glow of real sunlight pouring in through the bedroom windows gave me the most comfort I had experienced since the accident, and compared to the hospital, it was heaven. I was not on my own by any means; my Mom had to help me shower and give me my blood thinning shots twice a day in my stomach. Walking from my bedroom to the kitchen made me break a sweat, as my muscles had not been used in two months. I still had open wounds, was using a personal walker built for full body support to move around, and couldn’t even dress myself, but I felt a happiness that seemed almost unfamiliar.

Coming home was the best thing that could have happened to me. The doctors gave me a month before I would be walking without the walker, but I threw it in the back of my closet after the third day. I ditched my bandages after a week and started wearing jeans ten days later. I was determined to feel normal again, or at last appear normal to the unknowing passerby. I began driving after only two weeks out of the hospital and started living my life as if I had never fallen off that motorcycle. My friends and family could see how quickly I was becoming myself again. I truly believe being around such wonderful support helped me heal as quickly as I did.

I was still attending physical therapy, but was improving at speeds that amazed even my own doctors. I was walking up stairs without a second thought and riding the stationary bike with ease. It still hurt to do normal things, even bending my knees to sit in a chair would send pain up my legs, but I learned to ignore it all. I was so used to the way my skin ached, including the itching and burning I would feel every second, that it was as if I never really felt it anymore. My mind had blocked it out and unless I stopped to notice it, the sensitivity and uncomfortable nature of the healing skin grafts wasn’t even in my thoughts.

The morning my hair started to fall out I knew something was wrong. I had been out of the hospital for an entire month but the medication I was taking had just started to leave my system. The combination of chemicals that had kept me alive and comfortable in the hospital was now killing the living cells in my scalp and face. After a week of pulling chunks of my own hair out and watching my eyelashes and eyebrows fall to my cheeks, I felt like a cancer patient taking chemotherapy. I cut my long blonde hair short to try and save as much of it as I could, but it never stopped. You could see through the few thin strands left all the way to my scalp and I even had a couple completely bald spots. I finally had had enough and decided to simply shave my head and get it over with. I cried as the rest of my hair hit the bathroom floor that night.

After everything I had suffered as a direct result of the fall: 55 percent body coverage of third degree burns, severed tendons in my left pinky finger, a severely dislocated right big toe, and a large amount of blood loss; what really slowed the healing process was what I experienced in the hospital. Indirect results of the accident due to a prolonged hospital stay: pneumonia, urinary tract infection, pseudomonas infection, blood infection, a blood clot in my left leg, yeast infections, anemia, 3 blood transfusions with 1 adverse reaction, 8 surgeries, 31 conscious sedations, countless skin debreedments, and undiagnosed PTSD and depression. With these things in mind, the loss of my hair seemed minimal at most. My hair would grow back. I was alive, and thankful for that everyday. I knew that what I had gone through would give me the strength to survive anything else God had planned for me in the future. As long as I could walk, talk, and breathe, I was always happy to be on this earth and would never take the blessings in my life for granted again.

RETURNING TO RIDING

My heart felt heaving knowing something I loved so much had almost cost me my life. I knew the mistakes I had made and the consequences I never wanted to face again. I couldn’t imagine not riding because it was one of my few joys. I knew I would never again ride without my gear. Even on a hot day and a short trip, my helmet would always be on my head and I would make sure it was functioning properly. I was back on a motorcycle as a passenger a few times before I was rid of the fear I felt. Once I was able to go highway speeds, I knew I was ready and able to ride again. I wanted to feel the freedom that comes with being alone on the machine and rolling on the throttle, putting the rest of the world on hold.

I bought my 2006 Yamaha R6s on June 22nd from a local dealer. With help from a very close friend, I was reminded of the basics of riding every morning for a couple of weeks in free lessons that were tailored to my needs as a rider. I was taught the importance of knowing that while on a motorcycle, literally anything can happen at any time. Riding prepared for the worst possibilities will always protect you from injury in even the smallest wreck. I know I never want to feel the way I did in the hospital again, and anything I can do to keep that from happening, I will do every time I get on a bike. I learned some new skills in that first month back on the road, but I also learned some important things about myself as well. I learned how strong I really am, especially after returning to the sport that changed my life after almost claiming it.

THE FINAL OUTCOME

My road rash will take several years to completely heal and will never look or feel normal again. I have conquered the only fear that kept me from riding and I will never put myself in the same position to receive such injuries as I have lived through this past year. I stress the importance of wearing full gear to each and every person I ride with, talk to, or even who happens to read my story. I believe that my experiences are a lesson to every type of rider or passenger. I would never wish the pain I felt and still feel today upon anyone in this world. It is completely avoidable with a few extra layers, and I can’t say it enough: it is undeniably worth it to gear up. Everything I have gone through this past year will not be in vain if my testimony is enough to save someone’s skin.

Much to my dismay I am selling my black Honda CBR 900 RR. Asking price is $5,000.00 O.B.O. Modifications include a custom paint job, powder coated wheels jet kit and pipe.. The bike has 52,000 miles on it. This past week I put on 2 new tires and new rear brakes. If you know anyone interested plese have them contact me.

Thanks

Well after complaining a bunch of times and telling the motortopia group they even advertised me why would they discriminate and take my photo off of my bikini shot...they finally put it back on...you have to find it under my red dream....
this was the original link to the news letter with photo...Thanks to Ms Rx who had sent it to me..
I'm back up on photos again with most comments...thank you!

http://www.mo...wsletter.html

hope you check it oout if you have not seen it. Hugs to the girls who supported me in this. and hugs to the guys and ther single guys..an extra hug...lol
Yeah I know we love to flirt when we are not talking cars.. I need a good joke, had a bad one yesterday 1,500.00 to get my hood on my car painted...ouch!!!!!!!!!!!!! donations excepted...I'll be out on a street with a tin cup and pencils....or selling girlscout cookies!!!

hugs to all
Susie

Wishing everyone a very Merry Christmas!!!!! I hope that your special Santa brought you all that you had wished for and more...
Soupy

You sent my videos to Motortopia Most Viewed Videos list.

okay first off,. sadly the main pic is only where i want my SV to head towards. not of mine. not quite there yet. but i have a good start! check out the pics for progression.

Subject: [BOG] Powdercoating Feedback - 2 Thumbs Up!
Date: 6/7/2007 10:04:59 P.M. Central Daylight Time
From: harry and the rest is made up to protect his privacy @ xxx dot com
To: BarracudaOwners@yahoogroups.com


Well folks, it looks like I'm number 000001 from the BOG to test out the services of our very own Leanna ~ The CudaChick and her sidekick Billy's new Powdercoating business. I just got back my intake manifold and was impressed with three things:

1 - The quality of the work. Billy personally called me to confirm
it was OK to "clean-up" my manifold before coating it. This service was included in the price quoted. It came out GREAT!

2 - The speed of getting my part in and out of their shop. They got my manifold last Friday and it was back out via UPS this Monday afternoon. Unheard of… Weekend service in today's auto service environment??!!

3 – The reasonable price charged for services rendered. I paid about the same/ a little less, including shipping to and from BFE, as I would have to use a sort-of local shop.

Aside from the quality, the time service was far superior with
Phoenix Specialty Coatings. I really appreciated the speedy and exceptional service I received. They will have me a customer for all my Powdercoating service needs!! I highly recommend them to each and every BOG member. Here's a plug:

Phoenix Specialty Coatings
Greenfield, Tennessee
731-613-9192 (10-9 central)
PhoenixSpecialtyCoatings@yahoo.com

Thanks again to Leanna and Billy and best of luck with your new business venture... You're already #1 in my book!

Harry
2003 Dodge Durango 4x4
1998 Dodge Ram 1500 4x4
1968 Plymouth Barracuda Convertible (Soon to be a 340 Formula S Clone!)

BarracudaOwnersGroup


* * *




From: Tenspeed59@aol.com
Tue 6 Nov 14:03:05 2007

WOWWWWWW!!!....what can be said of the finished product and service except just that????...Now dont go getting an inflated ego Billy.....It was all Leanna......HA!

Thanks again Phoenix Specialty Coatings and "KEEP THOSE ASHES RISING"!!!!!!

Good Luck!
Mark

I am not even going to try to explain the sensation one gets while standing on the bridge over the garage exit as the cars go out onto the track. My words just won’t do justice to the feel, sound, and aroma one experiences. The best I can say is that it was pretty awesome!! The rest you will just have to imagine.

I want to say “Thanks” to Motortopia.com and World Class Motorsports Racing Tours (racingtours.com) for allowing my wife and I to experience our first live race. It was a very good weekend, and this is definitely the way to go to a race weekend.

We got to Phoenix Thursday, and did a few things around the hotel which is close to the Scottsdale area. I let my wife go shopping for a little while at Fashion Square (managed to keep her out of Tiffany’s), and took her out to dinner for her birthday. Then we managed to find a few drinks at the Rusty Spur Saloon in Scottsdale. Imagine a place about the size of a double garage with a bar, a band, some tables and packed full of people. It was fun!

Friday and Saturday we were with the Racing Tour. Ron from racingtours.com put together a great package. The hotel was nice, and in a nice part of town. We rode a bus from the hotel to the track, and parked right outside the track. The seats were good, and easy to get to. And most of all it was a great group of people, who were a lot of fun.

We bought pit passed for the weekend, and that was pretty cool to be down there close to everything going on. And like I said before…the atmosphere it just awesome! Just think about the way you feel when you fire up your hotrod with open headers and feel and hear the raw power that is there….now take that times ten. (Okay, for you “Tuners” I don’t know how to explain it to you…it’s just not the same!! ) Both races were very good…although I still don’t know about Gordon’s win?

And as always…it seems like you always find someone who is into cars like you are. It was great talking to some of the people on the trip about restoring old cars and trucks, and the project(s) we each have now.

We rounded off our trip on Sunday with lunch at the “Pink Taco”…it’s a nice famous Mexican restaurant in Scottsdale. (Beware of the $10 margarita) Then after spending some time at one of the casinos, we stayed with some friends at Leisure World (more commonly known as “Seizure World”) I wasn’t allowed on the lawn bowling field in my black shirt!!

But, anyway…that was our trip. Check out my photo album and video. Thanks again to Motortopia.com and World Class Motorsports Racing Tours.

Hello!

I am sending a new video about BMW Museum.

Good views to you!

An article in the Times of May 12th 2007 observed that the word "accident" has been removed from the latest edition of the Highway Code and replaced by "collision", "crash" or "incident".

The reason appears to be that describing something as an "accident" the driver feels less responsible as they are considered unavoidable, while using these alternative words encourages drivers to see the incident as a fact for which someone is responsible.

Some motoring groups have, however, claimed that the change will "foster a blame culture and encourage the prosecution of drivers for casualties that they had no intention of causing."

Some police forces refer to RTCs (road traffic collisions) rather than the more common RTA (road traffic accident.)

* Do you agree that the choice of vocabulary in this case reflects the way we view road traffic incidents?

* Is there a neutral term we can use?

* What other examples can you find of terminology which colours a listener's attitude towards an idea, a thing or an event? Consider the difference between "freedom fighters" and "terrorists" or "chubby" and "obese". Is this the same as political correctness (crippled / handicapped / disabled), (black / negro / colored), (chairman / chair / chairperson)?

I finally got it together and added the photos of the car the under chassis and stream lined laquar sides..interior all ...oh and my co-pilot. Hugs~ let me know what you think.
Susie

Don't forget to add Jay Leno on the Motorotopia car enthusiast profile!

http://www.mo...aylenosgarage

Featured Car: 1927 Harley-Davidson JD

The sidecar makes this JD a TRUE classic!

Photo gallery archive: http://www.ja...s/index.shtml

my first big mod for the GSXR- a taylormade race exhaust with Carbon Fiber plate. it's one of the few that actually LOOK like it could have came from the factory. no ruined lines here. weight savings, lower center of gravity, sounds and of course the PERFORMANCE... how can one go wrong with this clean exhaust?

What do you wish for? Besides world peace, I thought this engine doubling as a table and wine rack was pretty cool :)

So, I travel to Formula 1 each year, from Lincoln NE to Indianapolis, IN. A 10 hour venture that entails a 300 mile trek across Iowa. If you are ever looking for a four hour mind-numbing experience, just take a trip along I-80 though Iowa, you will get your every wish. It has to be the most boring scenery and extensive monotony one can endure.

Iowa is not without its moments though, oh no. As I am travelling back to Nebraska, I am making my way though Des Moines making sure not to take any wrong turns. (I made that mistake two years ago, extending my stay at least 30 mins before getting back on track.) So, as I'm leaving Des Moines, I need to make a gas station stop. I find a gas station exit on the west end of town and pull off I-80 onto a six-lane divided street. However, I am unable to find a gas station nearby, so I end up travelling about a mile down the road before I find a Kum-and-Go gas station. On the left side of the road are a bunch of blockades and people with flashlights signaling cars not to enter. I'm not exactly sure what is going on, but the gas station is off to the right so no worries for me.

So here I am, 10:30 PM on July 2nd in Des Moines Iowa pumping fuel into my car. And you won't believe what begins to happen next. A fireworks display across the street begins to go off, maybe 60 yards from where I stood. And this isn't some backyard display either, it is a major event display with some high-dollar mortar shells. Almost immediately, pieces of mortar shell start falling all around me, sounding like plastic beads bouncing off the pavement. Is this happening? What if a burning ember comes down? What if a mortar shell doesn't reach its altitude, and sprays sparks into the fumes coming from my gas pump? I wasn't interested in finding out. I stopped pumping and got away from that station as soon as I could, in fear for my life. What also surprised me was the other people pumping gas. They had no worries, they just stood by their cars and watched the pretty fireworks.

All kinds of things came to mind. How could they get a permit to put a display right next to such a busy street, let alone a gas station? Only in Iowa, was my only guess.

My R5 was featured on Motortopia's Bikes homepage in August 2006:

This really nice 1972 Yamaha R5C is owned by Motortopia member lotoole3. Be sure to check out his photo album, and the link to his weblog detailing the entire restoration.

How To Identify A Driver's Home

One hand on wheel, one hand on horn: New York

One hand on wheel, one finger out window: Chicago

One hand on wheel, one hand on newspaper, foot solidly on accelerator: Boston

One hand on wheel, one hand in pants, cradling cell phone, brick on accelerator: California*
*with gun in lap: L.A.

Both hands on wheel, eyes shut, both feet on brake, quivering in terror: Ohio, but driving in California.

Both hands in air, gesturing, both feet on accelerator, head turned to talk to someone in back seat: Italy

One hand on Latte, one knee on wheel, cradling cell phone, foot on brake, mind on game: Seattle

One hand on wheel, one hand on hunting rifle, alternating between both feet being on the accelerator and both on the brake, throwing a McDonalds bag out the window: Texas city male

One hand on wheel, one hand hanging out the window, keeping speed steadily at 70mph, driving down the center of the road unless coming around a blind curve, in which case they are on the left side of the road: Texas country male

One hand constantly refocusing the rear-view mirror to show different angles of the BIG hair, one hand going between mousse, brush, and rat-tail to keep the helmet hair going, both feet on the accelerator, poodle steering the car, chrome .38 revolver with mother of pearl inlaid handle in the glove compartment: Texas female

Both hands on steering wheel in a relaxed posture, eyes constantly checking the rear-view mirror to watch for visible emissions from their own or another's car: Colorado

One hand on steering, yelling obscenities, the other hand a waving gun out the window and firing repeatedly, keeping a careful eye out for landmarks along the way so as to be able to come back and pick up any bullets that didn't hit other motorists so as not to litter: Colorado resident on spotting a car with Texas plates.

Check out the Phoenix Specialty Coatings Business Group on motortopia!

http://Phoeni...tortopia.com/

Be among the first to learn about our specials, discounts, new color arrivals, giveaways, my upcoming show appearances, etc.

Hi All,
I am "Happy" to report that it was another successful weekend here in sunny South Florida with beautiful weather, a great car cruise and two fantastic car shows.
Friday evening started it all off with the usual cruise-in at the Tower Shops in Davie, followed by a bite to eat with a few of the guys at the Falcon Pub.
Saturday morning I was up early to head on over to the S.A.B.A. Car Show on Andrews Avenue in Ft. Lauderdale. S.A.B.A. stands for the South Andrews Business Association and they put on a great show from 9:00 until 4:00 with 142 cars and trucks attending.
Saturday evening was dinner out at Stevie B's in Weston - an awesome place for ribs!!!
Sunday I was up early once again and headed over to the BIG show. The last real car show of the year, and the biggest. I was out of the house at 6:15 and headed over to meet up with a few buddies to drive on over to the show. It is held at the Festival Marketplace Mall in Pompano Beach and was attended by 610 cars and trucks. I was joined by 12 other members of the Got Muscle? Car Club along with my girl Tina from MFI. The day was awesome, although a little tiring, what with all the walking around...
I wrapped up Sunday at a small cruise-in at a Bar & Grille by the name of Zo's and was finally home and in bed at 11:30...
God I hope this week goes slow enough to get caught up at the office, yet quick enough to get to the weekend...

Dave Szczublewski
Weston, FL
www.soupy28.com
www.ban-one.com
www.motortopia.com/soupy/cars