Last Sunday, Charlie came home from his 1000+ mile bike trip and told me there had been a casualty. The first thing I thought of was his Harley: "PLEASE don't tell me something happened to your bike!"
He answered by pulling a Ziploc bag out of his pack. In the bag were the sad remains of my PowerShot SD1100IS, my point-and-shoot digital. He had taken my camera on the trip because his old camera has been acting up. As soon as he told me he was going to take it, I knew something would happen to it, not because he's untrustworthy or clumsy, but because I have the most crap luck in the universe.
Before I could say anything, he held up his hand and said, "I know you're pissed. The replacement's already been ordered, and it'll be here in a few days." He's good, this guy.
But honestly, I wasn't pissed. He forgot to zip up his pack after a fuel stop, and the camera bounced out when he took off. As soon as he realized what'd happened, he backtracked. The camera was lying in the middle of the road, pretty much unscathed. Right before he stepped out to grab it, a car sped by, and THIS happened:
The LCD's smashed, the casing is broken, the memory card is destroyed, and the battery is bent. I really don't care about the camera -- I mean, for Pete's sake, it's a CAMERA, I have several others -- I was, however, upset that he lost all the pictures from his ride. Charlie's trip pictures are usually just random scenery, cars, and motorcycles, but this was a big trip for him. It was his first "Iron Butt" ride, and it was for a great cause.
He's now using this as an excuse to do another similar ride, as soon as possible. Next time, sir, take-a your own camera!