This evening I borrowed Mike’s truck and hauled a load of mulch from his back-forty over to my house. We nestled the four tractor scoops full of mulch into a bed of tarp, then tied the tarp into a bundle to keep the mulch from blowing out as I drove home on the highway. While our intentions were sound, the 70 mph breeze did manage to dislodge a few wood chips from the back of the truck.
All was well and good until I checked the rearview mirror and saw a motorcycle bobbing and weaving 100 feet behind me. Then he ducked his head down low behind his console. When he finally managed to pass me, I glanced over to catch him shooting me a dirty look before revving his engine and accelerating past.
As he flashed his scowl, I saw his problem. His bike didn’t have a windshield, and he wasn’t wearing a helmet, so all of that flying mulch was smacking him in the forehead at almost 140 miles an hour.
I imagine that hurt.
I also imagine that in the summertime that dude eats some serious bugs.
I wonder which is worse – mulch in the face, eating bugs or being a helmet-less moron?