riding my new 749 i'm flying across 128th out here in white rock when i come up on those silly little scooters. three of them. when i flash my lights at them, the one at the back, wearing a raymond roche helmet, turns and looks at me, and laughs. what the f? traffic is always pretty heavy on 128th so i back off a bit and wait for the next light at 24th. i figure when the light changes i'll pass them nice and legal like going south towards 20th. i'll be damned if when i go to pass the things if they don't take off like RC211V's! now i'm choked. i'm going to pass the water bugs on the inside, outside, stuff em', whatever it takes. as we roll up to the four way at 16th 128th, the pieces of %^#! pull wheelies and take off. i couldn't believe it. last straw, the corner at the bottom of the hill is one of my favourites. positive camber, nice asphalt, i'm going to put a carl fogarty so bad on these three they will never again bother riding modified chain saws on the street. i am wailing on the bike and setting up for the inside when the raymond roche guy checks up. no sweat, take him wide, bend it in , take the next fruitbag wearing some bell helmet so old it should be a planter, with a lovely aggressive inside line. last and not least, the next bike? scootie? looks to be one of those trick italian jobs, val rossi numbers, chrome wheels, the little stick up flag, the whole bit. i drift the ass end out just enough to drive him on the outside, when out of the blue, a bloody pizza delivery guy comes flying out of some driveway. carbon lorraine my ass. an anchor ain't gonna help us. the nit on the scooty? dives right, i go left and take out a bunch of garden cans, bricks, car parts, dishwasher, fridge, anvil, couch, fisher price toys, microwave, two years worth of the peace arch news and how typical, about three years worth of labatts blue cans. surrey garbage, you know? when i finish digging my way out from under the papers, and all i can remember is all the damn white. white papers, white cans, white white white, i hear a voice say, " you're in recovery now, your surgery went well ". i look around and realize i've been dreaming. shit, broke the damn leg on my third shift of the first game of hockey for me this year. the morphine was great, but what a crappy dream huh? see you guys at the awards banquet!!