Joe and I were in a motorcycle race at a “super-speedway road course”. Twists and turns for 10 miles or something, but we could hold it flat out going 240mph the entire time. I pussied out on a couple corners though and let up on the gas and went on the high side of the corner.
About 2/3 of the way through the race/lap I realized I was wearing nothing but shorts, t-shirt, and no helmet. “If I wipe out right now this is not going to be good” I thought to myself. I tried to calculate how much of my skin would be removed while I slid from 240mph to zero. “Too late to think about that now” I say to myself and continue on.
We finish our lap and both pull into the pits. The rest of the field comes in behind us (we were #1, and #2 with Joe in first). Joe turns to me and says “I’m not gonna lie, two-hundred forty miles per hour on a bike might be a little fast even for me.” I agree and as the last of our field comes in, the second field leaves the pits for their lap.
We then all take our bikes to a field and bury them to hide them from the police. The race was “unsanctioned” and they’re looking for us. We have to wait until nightfall to come back and dig them up to get away.