...Halloween Party. I have been working nights, so I am up to all hours of the morning. A 5am, i decided to find my phone and charge it. Oh, a voice mail at 6:23 Saturday night before... "Hi...this is *redacted*. I got run down the other night, bitch turned left into me and hit me dead on. I am at *redacted* and if you can, could you pick up my bike at the wreckers yard?". My blood ran cold. As I have been working nights, I have not been to the weekly gathering of bikers at a local brewery for the last 2 weeks. It draws 50 to 70 motorcycles. I have a 2 beer max when I am there. It's high gravity craft beer. I eat too. I do not know if that is important to this or not. At 7:30am I couldn't wait anymore and I called him. He answered, groggily, or drugged more likely, but he made sense. "I'm pretty beat up. They took off my left leg below the knee, and I am dealing with an infection... I was reeling. I've known him for 30 years. He's a good rider. I wanted to cry. He'd been there 2 weeks AND NONE OF US KNEW. After saying goodbye, I drove over to the wreckers yard. Closed on Sunday of course. Today I got in and took these shots: ATGATT dammit, all of you ATGATT. I just hope he makes it.