Crashed my motorcycle on I-15 trying to tickle someones bare feet.

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In July of 1992, a friend and I were returning home to San Diego, after a motorcycle ride up Palomar Mountain. After an awesome ride up Palomar mtn. on our crotch rockets, we were headed home on Interstate 15 on this warm and sunny day. The freeway speeds are typically pretty fast and we were doing about 85 mph. I crept past a car tha was driving in the fast lane and I noticed a pair of bare feet sticking out of the passenger window belonging to the rider in the back seat. After a moment of consideration, I thought it would be funny to tickle the bottom of those feet and startle the owner of them so I slowed to their pace, about 80 mph, and drifted into the lane next to them. The front seat passenger looked over at me and nodded as if to say hello. I motioned with my head to the bare feet sticking out and she had glanced back at them and then looked over at me again. With my left hand, I wiggled my fingers in a tickling manner to indicate I was thinking about tickling those feet. She got a big smile and nodded again indicating that I should do it. That was my cue. I was drifting closer to the car to give a quick tickle. just as my hand left the handle bar to reach out, I took a quick look ahead to see where my position was in traffic. I was amazed to see that I was about 6 inches from the rear bumper of a black Mercedes. I don't know whether it had changed lanes because it was moving a little slower than other lanes or that I had been focused too long on the feet and had been closing in on it for a while. All I knew was it was right there. I grabbed for my front brake but the first thing I remember was being disoriented and thinking to myself, "I must have hit that car and I'm about to crash'. It was dreamlike. I didn't need to wonder for long because my shoulder hit the pavement very hard and I remember the pain first then the loud knock in my helmet. For what seemed like a long time, I knew I was airborne and then my ankles hit the ground very hard and the pain was instant and severe. Then, for a brief moment, nothing. Then came another hit to my right shoulder followed by a moment of suspension followed by my left ankle slamming down again. That was the cycle for about 10 more times. After 5 or 6 times, I knew when I became airborne again, I was going to take another painful hit to my shoulder then ankles. I thought to myself, "How many more times before I stop?" It was a couple more times then I knew it was almost over when I ws no longer cartwheeling but instead, sliding and spinning which eventually sat me up like a top and the last few seconds, I was sliding on my butt. What I thought would be my last act of life, I looked towards the traffic behind me just in case I had the chance to dodge a couple of cars by rolling aside and maybe I would live. I didn't give it much chance though. To my amazement, there was a wall of cars about 50 feet behind me, in perfect rows and all stopped. So I said aloud, "Cool" I rolled to my side and stood up slowly, looking at the cars and seeing every face with wide eyes and mouths open in shock of what they just witnessed. That image will be forever in my head. I sauntered over to the center of the freeway where my friend, my motorcycle, my intended victim and the black Mercedes were stopped about 100 yards ahead. I walked towards them and out of the corner of my eye, I could see that perfectly aligned row of cars creep up along side me, mouths still wide open and eyes still huge looking at me as if I rose from the dead. I mustered every bit of dignity that I had left and continued to walk. Sadly, that iota of dignity that I scraped up off the freeway vanished when i reached back to feel why my butt was so cold. I put my hand on my bare butt cheek. It stung immediately and I brought my hand up to look at it and it was covered in blood. I joined the crowd that was waiting for me and tried to answer their barrage of questions trying to act as if nothing happened. That didn't fly though and the rest is history. The next morning people began to call my phone telling me of an article they were reading about in the newspaper. Humiliating to say the least. It went by the wayside soon and I was relieved for a long time until the internet came along. Damn, the humiliation started over again but amplified by 100 times. Thre are several postings of this incident now on the internet and to find them, you should enter some of the keywords that describe the incident noted above. Brief as it may be, I was still ashamed and humiliated. Someone please top my story. I want to know that I am not the biggest moron in the world. Thank you very much The Tickler