Bloody mess. 11/30/2004
A lifetime ago, a group of us were riding in southern Thailand, running up the road towards Phuket. I was leading the group, barrelling down the road at well over 200 km/h, with my head tucked under the bubble, when I saw a chicken cross the road. Why did the chicken cross the road? I have no idea. But I had a choice of trying to avoid the chicken, and placing myself and my motorcycle in a dangerous position on the wrong side of the road, or hitting the chicken, making it an ex-chicken.
I was still tucked under the bubble, when I heard the chicken hit the front wheel with a ‘thump!’. There was an instantaneous burst of feathers, and I lifted my head to see over the debris. And a split second later my visor went blood red…with blood. I now had chicken blood streaming over my visor, at a speed well over the ton. I was effectively riding blind.
I resisted the tempation to slam on the anchors, and shed my speed gradually. I flipped the visor up when the worst of the blood had dissipated in the slipstream, and came to a halt. I flipped the side stand down, and got off the bike, with blood all over my front, shoulders and helmet. I looked like I’d run into an abattoir. My mates pulled up behind me, having seen the whole incident, and I took my helmet off and flipped everyone the middle finger, warning them that there were to be no chicken crossing the road jokes.
I sat by the side of the road, cleaning up the visor as best I could, and one of my friends looked under the front of the bike, behind the front wheel, and pulled out a slightly mangled chicken, looking the worse for wear after an encounter with a Michelin Pilot Sport at high speed. And he held this dead chicken in his hand and asked, “We having chicken curry tonight?”