Dad and little Gemma

She takes the cake!  A black ball of terror, ambushing everything that goes by.  Then there is Dad.  Giant, warm, loving.  Holds his little girl like the precious gem she is!

Dad & the Motorcycle!

So, at 2:47 pm I get a phone call. 
"Honey?' 
"What's wrong?"  The immediate answer from a wife who hears something in a voice she doesn't like!
"I've had a little accident.  I'm kind of banged up.  Could you come get me?"

Thirty miles later, I find him standing on the side of a picturesque mountain road.  He was taking a scenic tour through the Cache Forest, leaning into a gorgeously curvaceous road, when a buck charged frantically out of the woods and nipped his front tire (hunting season....).  The bike somersaulted.  Korte somersaulted.  Korte was thrown, with helmet, leather jacket, jeans.  The bike took a 100 foot fall (gosh, isn't that becoming Korte's specialty?) over the side of the mountain.  Korte didn't go with it...decided to make road jam instead.  Ended up with abrasions and deep bruising (at least I think that's all it is), and the bike is "dead", down the mountain.  I slid down and turned it off so it wouldn't explode.  Handle bar is bent at a 90 degree angle.  Makes you wonder what would have happened to a human neck!  Took some pictures because the adjuster will never go down there.  Dealt with getting him home, filing the claim, arranging the tow, cleaning and assessing the wounds.  No more motorcycles please!  Once I had everything under control, sitting on a chair on the front porch, allowed myself to fall to pieces.