I went back to get a second X-ray of my broken hand, and looked at the images while in the radiologist\u2019s waiting room. It looked to me like the bone wasn\u2019t healing.<\/p>\n
I was concerned that the doctor would want to put it in a cast and I wouldn\u2019t be able to ride my motorcycles. \u201cIt\u2019s not healing\u201d, I said to him the next day while he read the radiologist\u2019s report.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes it is\u201d, he said. \u201cIt is healing here, and here, but it is slow.\u201d I looked at the report and saw the words \u201cage related degeneration noted\u201d. \u00a0I was impressed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have been called a degenerate before\u201d, I told him. \u201cBut never by a doctor.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said he wanted me to see a hand surgeon for a second opinion. He wrote me a referral, and I saw the surgeon that afternoon.<\/p>\n
The hand surgeon was pleased. He said it had more movement than he expected, and I said I thought it was from holding the handlebar on my motorcycle. He said it probably was, and I should ride my motorcycle more.<\/p>\n
Win!<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are a handy man to know\u201d, I told him. He smiled without showing his teeth.<\/p>\n
He showed me how to tape two fingers together to minimize the chance of re-breaking the metacarpal, and then he said \u201cAny more questions?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes\u201d, I said. \u201cWould you rather fight a giraffe sized dog, or a hundred dog sized giraffes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA hundred dog sized giraffes\u201d, he said.<\/p>\n
I called Ben, and said my doctor had recommended that I ride my motorcycle over the mountains to his place. He said to come up.<\/p>\n
I went on the V-Strom, because its riding position puts less pressure on the hands, and also there was some dirt road involved. I stopped for fuel 200km out, at the Raglan service station. A boy of nine or ten wound down the window and watched from the back of a car next to me. He was staring at the bike when I came out after paying. A motorcycle with luggage and a sleeping bag attached has a gypsy look that appeals to children and degenerates.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey kid\u201d, I said. \u201cWould you rather fight a giraffe sized dog, or a hundred dog sized giraffes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA hundred dog sized giraffes\u201d, he said.<\/p>\n
It was only 80km to Ben\u2019s from there. I passed a Velocette Venom and what looked like a Matchless G50 with a high pipe coming the other way. Their riders wore fluorescent green vests. “British Racing Green has faded over the years”, I thought.<\/p>\n
It was Ben’s birthday. I gave him a bottle of American whisky.\u00a0 We drank some as we caught up on each other\u2019s news.<\/p>\n
I left at midday the next day. There were mountain ranges to be crossed on motorcycles. Doctor\u2019s orders.<\/p>\n
I took the back way out of Lithgow, and stopped on the dirt road east of Hartley Vale for a photo. I could feel my bones knitting.<\/p>\n
I was home in two hours. \u201cWhat\u2019s the difference\u201d, I said to the girl-child, \u201cbetween a tuna, a piano, and an owl?\u201d<\/p>\n
She didn\u2019t know.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can tune a piano, but you can\u2019t piano a tuna\u201d, I told her.<\/p>\n
There was an uncomfortable silence, which lasted maybe ten seconds. She knew that if she asked about the owl I would say \u201cwho?\u201d And I knew if I asked her about the owl she would say \u201cwho?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t need to come home straight away, Dad\u201d, she said.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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