There's a massive pileup on the track in a Brazilian race.

There's a reason they're called "snowmobiles" genius. Racing them on asphalt may end badly.

Judging by the awkward angle his leg is set at, I'll grant that it's okay for him to be crying about it.

I'm pretty sure this guy is dead.

Riding down a steep dirt hill into a set of stairs is pretty much a recipe for failure.

This is my mantra.
Generally, the poem is interpreted as a feminist call for women to rediscover their authentic selves outside the roles given them by a largely patriarchal society.

However, I put it in   more...the context of my own life, as someone who basically lives in a reflective stance, always willing to mine the past for treasures, while choosing not to live there.

While I appreciate and understand Rich's intent, I don't see the meaning as being valuable only to women.

It's for anyone who's not afraid of the darkness, and can see the book of myths for what it is.

<b>Diving Into The Wreck</b>
by Adrienne Rich

<i>First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.

There is a ladder.
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it is a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.

I go down.
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers cripple me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me when the ocean
will begin.

First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.

And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.

I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed

the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative haunters.

This is the place.
And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body.
We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he

whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
obscurely inside barrels
half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held to a course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass

We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.</i>  less

I hope this was a report on how dangerous and unreliable Russian ambulances are, otherwise, someone's got some explaining to do here.

He should've gotten bonus points for the number of flips he managed to pull off with that thing!

Oh snap, your axle just shattered!

Just when it looks like it's getting better it gets a lot worse.

You don't really need your collar bone anyway, do you?

the host of pinks tries to ride a gixxer...i guess he bit off more than he could chew

By Gordon Lightfoot(*Wordsmith and Canadian Balladeer)

That's one way to reduce your chances of getting a girl pregnant...

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a.story

wreck nation wide race

Train Wreck cover by Noise Pollution. Covers are nicer and nicer, so watch this one=)!

Thankfully, the car was already half-totaled. They just finished the job.

I don't quite get what he was trying to accomplish here, but he definitely did it in style.

Changing your tire in the middle of the road might not have been the best idea ever.

Smashing into other cars doesn't let you get away from the cops faster.