Shortly after the weekly Dominicans vs Gringos softball game that Jeff plays in, we hopped on our motorcycle to stop by the home of some friends we met while attending mass at the local catholic church. it was a hot, hot day with little wind and we thought the breeze for the short ride through town would be refreshing. Unfortunately, just as we were slowly making a right turn a poncho on a motor cycle (who we were later told was a local Luperon barber) goosed his bike attempting to pass us on the right and crashed into my arm and the side of our bike. I was tossed off the bike and Jeff went skidding sideways across the pavement with the bike.

He rolled away from the bike, which was laying on it's side and still running with gas dripping out of the tank. While Jeff was laying on the pavement accessing his wounds, I ran over to stand up the bike and a bystander helped me lift it . A crowd of people quickly gathered to see what happened, ask if we were ok and take us to the hospital if needed. Fortunately, neither of us were seriously injured, just bruised, scraped, and bloodied. As we were checking out the damage to our bike (both taillights broken, shifter bent, side panels on the left jimmied out of place and scratched, seat thrown off the bike, few other things bent and scratched) the driver of the bike that hit us (pictured below) said we owed him money because one of his handles was broken. We told him we didn't owe him anything, he was the one who hit us trying to pass on our right while driving too fast in town. We said we would take care of our bike and he could take care of his but he continued to rant and rave that we owed him 4000 pesos ($100).

Then the police arrived , looked around, talked to the reckless driver, and talked to us. Luckily, our friend Bristol arrived shortly after that and helped with translating as our Spanish is not quite up to par in stressful, police interactions. Since the Dominican continued to insist we owed him money we all had to go to the police station where he suddenly developed a limp and complained about a bruised arse. The police told us that unless we came to an agreement we would have to go to Puerta Plata, about 30 miles away, file a report, get an attorney, yada, yada yada. It didn't seem to matter that the other guy had hit us and didn't have a drivers' license. I continued to insist we wouldn't give the dirty bastard any money but our friend said it would be much worse if we went to Puerto Plata. So, after more back and forth we settled for 500 pesos ($12.50). Jeff pulled out his wallet, which contained only 100 pesos, I dug 300 pesos out of my pocket, and our friend Bristol loaned us the last 100 pesos. Sadly, after six months anchored in Bahia Luperon, frequenting local businesses, helping out at the high school, spearheading improvements made at a community watering station, teaching a local man English, supporting the local church, and making friends with people in the community and other cruisers, this experience has created a dark cloud with a big shadow. Along with the good things I tell others about the many fine people in Luperon there will also be this story warning them about the man who ran into us with his motorcycle and rather than apologizing for his recklessness and the harm he inflicted he demanded money and the police were complicit.