Just crashed a motorcycle so thoroughly there’s nothing left but a smoking ruin of twisted metal.
In writing, of course. I still don’t have a driving license for one of those things. Which, as I come to think about it, would make it probably more easy to crash it into… well, anything. With or without me on it.
Since I am very fortunate not to have the experience of being dragged along the tarmac at a very high speed, I think this part of the scene still needs some work. And a lot of research. It’s a start, for now.
But I still want to, one day. Not the crashing. Getting a motorcycle driving license.
As for the wreckage… maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that cute orange fizzy bitter orange stuff. Alcohol and driving mix about as well as alcohol and writing. Only possibly less fatal for the latter. Depending on who you ask, of course.
The scene was supposed to be a neat ride somewhere, then park the bike. The fizz took over.