I thought he was dead

Riding out of the little country town we stayed in, lots of traffic, mainly trucks and suddenly Gareth and his bike are sliding down the road. Sparks are everywhere, he is rolling over and over, tumbling, rolling just like Aaron Slight used to at the Superbikes. Suddenly he’s up on his feet – again like Aaron used to – but the bike is still going, still in a sea of sparks. It stops 50 metres down the track lying in the path of the  oncoming traffic, and as I was to find when I finally got off my machine and to it, still idling. I flick his “kill switch” and order him to sit and not move. Helpers, all fluent in rapid Portuguese, are directing traffic and helping me move the bike off the road. A nurse appears and looks aghast at Gareth’s mis-shapen arm, luckily just the armour had moved. He has torn the bum out of his trou and has been lucky that his shredded gear has taken most of the slide damage.
Small holes worn in his wrist and elbow and a larger abrasion in his bottom are all he he is enduring. Making a call on oral antibiotics now as it is looking a bit nasty.

The reason for the off, our first on tar seal and at speed, was the huge ruts cut into the road by trucks. One caught his front tyre just as he started passing a truck and the aerobatics began.

The bike?? Hardly any damage. The fire works were from the aluminium pannier wearing right through and the “bark busters” saved the levers.
He kept riding but feels battered now. Battered in Belem on the shores of the Amazon.
Off to put on more dressings (real ones) and play nurse. xx Jo

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