a wee scrape.
Trying to get a ride in before lighting up the BBQ and cooking dinner. When there's bit of a rush, and it's not always the best idea.
We should have been out at a trail on the dirt, but time was short.
Gordy was amped up. He wanted to wheelie of every tree. "Calm down," I said, "this is the road, you gotta be careful. Every driveway, every car door, every pothole; you need to keep your wits about you."
But he was jacked up with adrenaline and ...
got his introduction to road rash, overreacting to a bug of all things.
He panicked trying to swat it off and crashed in the process. Classic front-wheel fold. Good thing he wasn't in traffic. Bug-o-phobia is OK, but when on a bike, you have to remain calm and flick it off.
He didn't make it a half-mile before we had to go back for flesh repairs.
Flushed the wound, applied pressure, ointment and a Bandaid and got back out there. I switched the twitchy roadbike for an MTB. If I was going to be distracted keeping Gordo in line, then I better do it, not on a high-strung road rocket, but on an MTB, right?
His band-aid covers a nasty one.
Time scudding by, I chose the steeepest two hills for the best workout in the least amount of time, in the newly infernally hot and humid weather. OK not that bad, but compared with what we have been used to, well it felt like Texas out there.
Up we went. Sweat, more sweat ... up Longview, up Hillcrest — Gordy way ahead of me — stopped for a swig of water, then down to the light, across Beacon and up Summit.
Note: those are good words; Hillcrest and Summit.
We were chatting and the next thing I knew my wheel was caught on the wrong side of in a 2 1/2-inch side rut where one part of the concrete had settled below the main roadway — a part of the road, a yard out from the curb where bikes ride. WTF? In slow ... motion I tried to regain control but the tire, my balance and handlebars were too far gone to regain control; the concrete crevice caught my tire and the balance was thrown ... smack. The front wheel folded left and down I went.
Squirted the wounds to the knee and elbow with half the remaining water. "So are we going to Sand's Point now?" Asked Gordon. "No I think that's enough wiping out for today. Not enough good karma out on the road. Traffic not exactly a picnic either — plus it's about 5 p.m. and we have a BBQ to get going.
Boy was dinner ever great, the grilled sweetpotato to tasty it should be illegal. The sweetcorn so fresh it makes you laugh how good it is. But cooking was a little tricky with an ice-pack, Witch Hazel, bandaids and triple antibiotic ointment.
As for now, it's not so much the know and elbow cuts as it is the hip bruise and shoulder.
So much for surfing at sunrise tomorrow. Looks like coffee in bed and then a limp up the hill to the parade.
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