The much requested Nu-skin story...

Well, I've had enough requests for the story so here goes... The pics also represent the dog lovin' that was going on yesterday, which while having NOTHING to do with the story, are incredibly entertaining nonetheless. The first bike that I bought and owned myself was a CBR600 F4i, bought July 3rd 2001, and died the end of July, 2002. This is how it all happened...

It was the weekend before I was to head to the final phase of Officer Candidate School, so I was out trying to maximize what fun I could have in preparation for the suck that was to come. OCS essentially is a "pay your dues" school where in addition to a little bit of training, there is a lot of "fun" stuff that is put in for your personal enjoyment of pain and misery. The final phase consisted of two weeks of running around the woods of middle Alabamastan, fighting mock battles, and then roadmarching all over creation, all in 95 degree heat and 3466788% humidity. Swimming pools are drier. Keep all this in mind as the story continues...

I was on my way to meet my girlfriend at the time for lunch, and decided I'd take the bike to maximize that enjoyment I wanted. I put on my usual gear. Helmet, leather jacket, boots, gloves, and a pair of blue jeans and headed out to her place. I decided to take the bypass to get there quicker, as it was usually deserted at this time of day. As I went down the on road I decided to open it up a bit and have a little fun... I gassed the bike hard in 1st and accelerated nicely. Then I did a quick upshift into 2nd and racked the throttle back again. Now while this size bike is no power monster, it does have a sweet spot where a fair amount is available. I was at says "this is a BAD idea"? In my head it is different. It says "this will be the best idea EVER! DO IT!!!"

Well after I let the clutch out after the upshift, the front tire decided that this would be an excellent opportunity to attempt to go into low earth orbit. "No problem" I thought, "I'll just back off the throttle a bit" which at this point was wide open. I loosened my grip on the throttle, yet the bike continued skyward. Still unworried, I lessened my grip a bit more yet the engine continued to rev higher, and the bike continued to pivot about the rear wheel. Finally I hit the point where I was staring directly at the gas cap. Unless one is looking down, this is never good. It was at this point I though "uh oh.... This is bad. Very bad." As I loosened my overall grip on the bike, and fought to not lose my grip on my bowel control, I slowly slid off the back of the bike. This is now ending badly. I distinctly remember looking up at my bike tearing off down the highway without me, hoisted on one wheel and still rocking back and thinking "wow my bike is REALLY tall!" I also heard that tinny voice in my head laughing hysterically at my misfortune. Then I hit the ground. Some of you might notice hitting the ground it a common them in my life...

Well as I hit I landed first on my butt, then back, and finally my head. The bump on the back of the head blacked out my sight for a sec, but I could still here by bike bouncing down the road, and more importantly, my butt bouncing after it. Finally everything came to a stop and I jumped up and sprinted for the grass, afraid I might be about to be run over. After I got to the grass I did my traditional "helmet toss" that signifies the end of yet another harebrained ride, and then remembered my bike. I ran back to the road where I stopped and just stared at my pride and joy, one a gleaming red machine, fury on two wheels, slayer of curvy roads and destroyer of all comers, now vanquished and folded mostly in half in the middle of the road. "Aww crap" I thought, and then ran back to the grass where I laid down face first and sulked.

After a moment, a passerby stopped and came over and asked if I was ok. All I could manage was a tine "nooooo" as I began to notice the odd burning sensation on my rear end. I stood up and made a quick damage assessment, and realized the rear end was the only painful place on my body. I took my hand and patted my backside to make quite the discovery. Apparently, at some point in the crash sequence, some sort of bad fashion police had accosted my obviously unconscious body and dressed me like Prince. I now was sporting a hot set of "assless chaps" of the Purple Rain tour vintage. Oddly I didn't feel very stylish, nor did I have a desire to change my name to "The Artist." As I finished swatting at my rear, someone asked if I wanted them to call anyone. I told them to call my dad, and then stared blankly as they asked what his number was. I repeated again to just call my dad, and still didn't think to give them the actual number... Funny how after the helicopter crash I remembered the number but now I couldn't.

They finally got ahold of my dad and we had the usual "I just wrecked my bike" conversation, and he loaded the truck with the medical kit to come get me. Again. You'd think by now he'd be used to this phone call... He finally showed up and we loaded what was left of the bike into the truck and headed home. One there I hopped in the shower and did the usual debriding process to get the blue jean, underwear, gravel, dirt, and pride out of the wound before putting a bandage on it and calling it a day. The wound was actually superficial and didn't even break low enough to break open blood vessels so it actually looked like more of a horrible blister on each cheek. Picture a large egg sized and shaped raw spot on each buttcheek, and that's was I was sporting. Coolness is not a word that comes to mind. I just hoped since it was so shallow it would heal fast. It didn't.

See when you get an abrasion would that isn't deep enough to bleed, you don't get a scab. You instead get that crusty plasma covering the just reopens every five minutes. Also, it doesn't heal, it just slowly grows out as the skin under it is replaced naturally. this takes a while, and hurts. Badly. It also leaves all your nerve endings open for the world to play with. Needless to say I spent a lot of time on my stomach hoping it would heal faster. Of course it didn't.

Well after a few days I had to go to Nashville to catch the bus to the OCS field phase in Alabama. I stayed the night with my 70+ year old little German grandmother so that I could be there at 5 a.m. the next day for roll call. Well I realized that there was no way I could go through OCS with open butt wounds, I started trying to think of something to put on it to cover it. I came up with a brilliant idea. I would use Nu-skin! I'd used it a lot for minor nicks while in the field, and figured this would be great. For those who've never used Nu-skin, let me describe this to you. Usually it comes in a small bottle and is applied with a little brush just like nail polish. I happened upon a newer version though, This one was in a little aerosol bottle just like spray paint. "Perfect!" I thought, "I can cover the whole area really fast!" Yeah... True... However, here's a little bit more about Nu-skin.

Nu-skin in the spray bottle is designed to be kind of a liquid band-aid. Essentially, it is polyurethane or something rubbery like that dissolved in alcohol, acetone, clove oil and a secret ingredient. The secret ingredient isn't listed but I'm relatively certain it is some form of molten magma that they managed to scrape out of a volcano and can it. How do I know this? Do read on...

I got back to my Oma's house with my purchase, took a shower, and readied myself to be nu-skinned. I looked this way and that, but no matter how I tried I couldn't get the angle needed to correctly apply the Nu-skin. Given the sensitive nature of the area it was going, I didn't want to just spray it all willy nilly. I finally decided that I was gonna have to ask Oma to help and headed into the kitchen to ask.

I asked her if she could spray it on each side and get a good coat on for me. She hesitantly agreed, and I turned around and presented the full moon over Tennessee for my treatment. Well she sprayed one side, and I noticed a mild burning sensation, but nothing too horrid. Then as she started on the other cheek, my brain began to register the full effect of the liquid h*ll that was being applied to my backside. As it sunk in I began to sweat and see stars. Finally instincts overcame me and I did what any mature 25 year old man would do. I dropped the towel and ran in tiny little circle in her kitchen, screaming at the top of my lungs while fanning both of my butt cheeks with my hands. Sitting on the surface of the sun would have been a welcome relief to the pain I was experiencing now. I'm 99% certain on the side of the bottle it says "proudly made by Satan and his minions." To make matters better, Oma is yelling at me in her German accent "Pheeellip, I deedn't get it all, ach you need to let me feeneesh." Torqamada and the spanish inquisition would have been music to my ears over that. Finally I settled down and picked up my towel, which was conveniently lying on the floor right next to my pride, and readied myself for round two.

Well I can honestly say round two went slightly different. As she sprayed, I managed to maintain my composure. I was a rock. I was a statue in need of repair. I was about to pass out from the pain. This time I ran in circles cussing through the whole house, rather than just the kitchen. Yes, towelless. Again. See I told you it went a bit different.

Well the next morning I went on down to where we were getting ready to go to Alabama, and recounted my tales of woe to all my friends there, who could only shake their heads and mutter something about how brave I was. Or maybe it was how stupid. I'm not sure anymore, the details have been lost to time. This is also a good time to reflect on what a true friend is. See nu-skin only stays in place until friction rubs it off, which on ones hind-end isn't very long. So I managed to rope my good buddy Colby into spraying my arse down every day with the Nu-skin. I think he may still be traumatized. But what a friend!

Down in Alabama, the fun continued... I couldn't tell the instructors what the level of my injury was out of fear I would be booted out of the class. The next two weeks were spent with me trying hard to never have to sit down, while simultaneously not giving away the fact that sitting was next to an impossibility for me... On the other hand however, the members of my team knew the deal so any time the whine factor got a little too high I'd have to set them straight with a little "you don't know how much this COULD be sucking for you right now" tiny tale of woe. In the end I managed to finish the course and commission with a minor infection in my rear end, and a new appreciation for how much pain can be bottled up in a tiny canister of Nu-skin. Happily I can also report that was the last time I ever slid down the highway on my rear end. Now if only that had been my last motorcycle crash, too...

Well everybody, I've made it to south Oregon, and tomorrow I start my way through California. I hope to make it about halfway down before I cut over to Las Vegas. I ought to be there this weekend sometime so watch and see. Also RTD has been a little sick today. I'm hoping it's a result of the wormer I gave him yesterday, but I dunno. If he's still sick tomorrow I may end up going to a NoCal vet somewhere, so I'll be sure to update! Until then!