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I guess we've been lucky and have not yet crashed the Montana into anything bigger than a curb. Hope I didn't just jinx myself. I know someday it's going to happen, though.
I also got off the bikes before burning skin or breaking bones. Right after being in the middle of a freeway pileup in Portland, OR, and finding myself at a stop with vehicles on four sides of me no more than three feet away. My ship was in overhaul in Portland. I took leave, rode it 1100 miles miles straight through to San Diego, where Vicki was, and traded it for a car.
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