It happened recently (2011) while bombing my own street, and even eclipses the events of Christmas Day 1995 (that's an earlier story). We live on a reasonably steep but short and nice little bombing hill. Good speed is achieved and then it rolls uphill. At the top of the hill there is a stop sign; a left turn and down the hill is a left hand bend (a dogleg). There is a single lane speed hump a little further on. The left handed dog leg means that the speed hump is not able to be sighted. I was on my Loaded Dervish at the top of the hill coming back from an early morning roll. A 3 tonne truck and a car preceded me and went through the stop sign and downhill. I gave them plenty of time to get out of the way, a good 20 - 30 seconds to have gone past the speed hump... and then I took off. My 'ohno' moment happened as I came around the dogleg at reasonable speed and Leaping Shitburgers 'JEEZUS' the truck and car were stopped waiting for a garbage truck to go through the single speed hump. My footbraking stinks; Pendy is non existent and my reactions were clearly not good enough. All I had available was to pick a line between everything. I hit 2 sets of catseyes, but stayed aboard. I grazed the truck mirror with my shoulder. The only thing I could do was to stay committed to the line I had available and went between all cars and trucks without any injury and a poofteenth of an inch to spare....following that episode I could almost swear that the colour of adrenalin is brown. There were two of the locals out for a walk who witnessed the whole thing and said that was so cool....Cool my arse....I near shit myself. Now, of course, I walk with my shoulders back when I pass these two punters but secretly I think they know it was more good luck than good management that I did not end up as road pizza.
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