How to barf while driving a motorcycle on the west side highway

make sure you turn your head as far to the left as you can while still being able to see the road in front of you. if you turn to the left then you can use your left hand to wipe the drool and shrapnel off your chin, while keeping your right hand on the throttle. due to a motorcycle's high engine compression, taking your hand off the throttle will result in a pretty quick loss of speed.

i know this because one fateful weekend, about 10-11 years ago, i had to barf while riding my motorcycle behind my dad, who was driving his. it was on the west side highway around Harlem. most people will wonder why i didn't stop, or slow down, or why i had agreed to ride in that state in the first place. well, it was because my dad had signed us both up for an awesome expert motorcycle riding course out in jersey. the kind of course that teaches you how to skid out and do high speed maneuvers with confidence. something that you normally wouldn't learn until it was too late. i had happily agreed to join him because it "seemed like a good idea at the time" ( i use this phrase lovingly, and in reference to my dad because he has always stated that he wants it engraved on his tombstone. my dad is a very funny individual). he had even called me the day before to remind me not to go out partying that night because he knew from experience that i can show up on saturday mornings looking like an over grilled tofu burger.

so, in the usual act of defiance, i went out drinking until the wee hours, refusing to quit at the usual opportunities for some unknown reason and soldiering on until about an hour before i needed to leave with him for jersey.

i got home, jumped into the shower, and then suited up for the drive. i was still drunk, so i think i probably thought that i actually was feeling *good*. it wasn't until about 116th street that my body suddenly shifted gears and explained to me how wrong i was in the assumption that everything was a-ok. it made its point quite forcefully. it decided to make its point by purging right there and then.

suddenly i realized what was going to happen. my biggest concern was really that my dad not know what was happening. i couldn't stand to hear the old "didn't you listen to what i said?" i couldn't let him be right, again. i needed to pull off a very complicated physical maneuver and stay alive doing it.

so i pulled in right behind him. i figured if i was dead centered to his tail i would be in his blind spot. i then raised my face guard (a VERY important step). without a second to spare i turned my head and just let her rip. needless to say, it was messy. my face must have transformed into something resembling a comet with a long tail of debris flairing out behind it. i can't even guess how far the trail went before misting into spray and settling on the highway.

i have tried to picture what i must have looked like to other drivers on the road that morning. it wasn't all that hard to gauge its effect because i got to see the faces of a family as they passed us. they looked like a nice, normal family, headed out to visit grandma or go fishing. well, the absolutely astonished look of horror on their faces is something i will always be proud of. it was obviously the stuff of nightmares. kind of like the fat guy in the Meaning of Life who sprays puke all over a nice restaurant after over indulging. i noticed that they had Canadian plates and thought, "welcome to new york!".

my guess is that i left a thin line of puke behind me that stretched for a mile or so. besides the slight lurching of the bike, as my abdominal convulsions peaked and ebbed, i basically was able to maintain my line of travel, and keep my dad blissfully unaware of the outrageous situation happening right behind him.

as always, during those young years, i felt instantly better after barfing and was basically psyched to learn how to skid on my totally rad bike.