Dirt Bike vs. State Police
DIRT BIKE VS. STATE POLICE
You guys are lucky tonight. Here is another True Life Adventure from the annals of Frank the Explorer. I headed into Thomas, West Virginia to talk to some antique dealers about helping me empty my garage of some of the unwanted pieces of furniture taking up space. Afterwards, walked up to the Purple Fiddle for a bite to eat. Now then, first thing I heard was a police siren. Next thing I hear is motorcycle, dirt bike with loud muffler.
Though I can't see them I can track their movements on the hillside across the river. The bike is in the lead with the police car slightly behind. I assumed the police car was in hot pursuit of the biker. I listened a bit, then continued walking up the one-way road crowded with Sunday tourists visiting the antique stores and grabbing a bite to eat or a cup of coffee or stopping in to one of the many art galleries that have sprung up in Thomas since the highway (48 aka "Corridor H") was completed this spring.
Next thing I hear...and SEE, is this dirt bike with rider in full racing gear; leather suit, helmet with full face mask with breathing apparatus, hauling ASS up the main street. About three seconds behind him a WV State Trooper lights-a-flashing also hauling ass up the one way street. "WOW! Did you see that?!" a guy sitting in a parked car exclaims to me. "Damn right I've been tracking them since they came down the mountain and crossed the river."
I went inside, sat down, and lo and behold about five minutes later there goes ANOTHER cruiser lights-a-flashing siren-a-wailing. "Looks like reinforcements" I commented to no one in particular. "After that biker no doubt," one of the patrons opined. About ten minutes later there goes another one. "Well he's either slipped away, or they got him and he's putting up a good fight," I offered, adding, "I'm rooting for the biker."
I finished my sandwich and brew, listened to the musical performer, the headed out. I had been there for about an hour. I jumped in my truck and headed down the road, turning towards Mt. Storm and the road that quickly opened to the four lanes of "Corridor H." About five miles down the road, here are three (3) State Troopers, sitting at the side of the road, no sirens, but all their lights-a-flashing. They are standing outside their cruisers having a conversation. About a hundred yards up the highway, on the right, a dirt road takes you into a private hunting preserve of about 3000 acres. There just inside the turn are two vehicles, a black one and a white one with writing on the side I could not quite make out. My guess, is Mr. Dirt Bike Rider decided to take a spin through the many back roads in the preserve, looking over his shoulder laughing as he shouted, "Try and catch me now you dirty coppers!" I had to laugh. Sorry.