Monday, July 19, 2010

Down hill boobies

During my ill-advised uni days there was an ill-advised period where I would ride my ill-advised pushbike into town. I was living in Norwood at the time and to get to Uni I would ride up Flinders street in Kent Town. For those not in the know, Flinders Street is that narrow busy road that joins onto Bartels Road with barely enough room for two lanes, but for some reason has four.

Heading east out of the city, the road goes downhill, so on a pushbike you could get quite a bit of steam up, but during the peak times it was suicide to even contemplate riding on the road. So I used to ride on the footpath to avoid chancing death.

One fateful day I was heading home from Uni when a young lady in a short wheelbase jeep type thing flew out of her driveway, right into my path. Now not being the hands-on mechanical type, my bike had slipped from any sense of a service history and was in a less-than desirable condition. Brakes that worked properly, for example, would have been nice.

Stopping was an issue; I was unable to avoid her and collected the rear-right corner of the jeep with my handle bars. I knackered myself on the gooseneck after impact, slammed into the ground, rolled past the jeep down the hill a little clutching my sore ailing nads.

“Are you okay?” She asked as she opened the passenger door in a panic. The little jeep was narrow enough for the driver to lean over and open the passenger door from the driver’s seat, and as she leant over her breasts decided to escape. She had been wearing a very low cut tank top thing and the sudden change in momentum and the angle of her lean was just enough to cause a jailbreak. “Are you okay?” she asked again as I started to get up.

“I am now,” I replied not hiding the fact that these were the first boobs I had seen in months.
She was confused for a little while, noticed the breeze, called me a pig, and drove away in a huff.

She caused the accident, she caused the injury to me, she decided not to wear a bra that day, she exposed herself, but yet I am the pig? I picked up my bike, straightened the handlebars, and limped home. A few weeks later someone stole my bike from Uni, and I never saw her again.

But if I was Conan, I would have been warming up the laminator...

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