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A past aquaintance who was a biker went on a camping trip with mates.
At site he decided to pop to the shops. Only a short ride, no point in dressing up.
Gravel track, dropped the bike and had the type of gravel rash that needs forceps to remove.
Considerate mates just pointed out that it would have been quicker to walk and someone else had to go and get the milk.
In his case nothing broken and he was able to, painfully, ride the bike back home.
Anyway: All best wishes to our Kiwi friends.
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The Mad Landsman
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