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I pulled over on a country road for a smoke. Huffed on my Camel, astride my cousin's TR6, feeling real satisfied with life and my own self. Immediately to my right -- in fact, as I learned, just under my right foot when I put it down -- the shoulder fell away with a sharpness concealed by the thick growth of tall weeds. Me: on my neck at the bottom of the ditch with the Triumph all over me like cake frosting. At 126 lbs, I was some time getting the bastard back on the road. I hope that makes you feel some better, Cooks.
 
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