Supposedly, this was no joke. I hope Rebecca Dudley does not mind my edit of the newspaper column's entry (my uncle sent a scan of it to me):
Motorcycle, Lout, Doors: Karma
A man pushed his motorcycle across the patio and into his living room where he bagan cleaning his engine with gasoline and rags. Finishing, he got on the bike and started it to make sure it was OK. Howbeit, the machine was in gear, crashed through the glass patio door and left the rider who'd been clinging to it with lacerations from broken glass. Having heard the commotion from the kitchen, his wife came running, saw his crumpled up body and called 911. Paramedics then arrived, put the man into the ambulance and drove him off to the emergency room and the wife awaited the results.
That same afternoon, many stitches later, the wife brought him home and put him to bed. She then went to his 'crime' scene to clean up the area, getting rid of the rags and dumping the gasoline into the toilet. Some while afterwards, the man awoke and his wife was again beckoned to the rescue by a roar with her husband's screams. He'd thrown a cigarette into the toilet (where his wife had dumped the gasoline) and the explosion had smashed him through the bathroom door and he was now lying in the hallway with his pants blown away and his buttocks burned.
We'll allow you a moment to continue laughing your own sadistic pants off here before providing a little follow up.
OK. The same two paramedics arrived on the scene again and, as they were loading the man into their ambulance for the second time, the wife explained what had just happened. They both began laughing so hard that they dropped the stretcher, breaking the man's collarbone.
Off the Clock, News-Tribune, Rebecca Dudley
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