Day 57 – Sometimes, the breeze you’re riding against is self-generated

Some days, there is something magical about riding the bike to work.  The gears tick along, and the wheels whirr on the pavement, the wind is at my back, and – almost miraculously – the operators of two-ton bicycle death machines decide to yield properly at intersections.   The bike path is mostly clear of gaggles of sauntering, lane-blocking pedestrians; dog-walkers keep their friendly hounds from barking at my heels, and all is well with the world.  I even remember to keep my lips closed as I smile my way down the path (thus discouraging unwelcome insectoid guests in my mouth).  I happily greet people with a quick “g’mornin’ – on yer left” to warn them of my passing.  (N.B.  I follow the rules of the road and of courtesy, which allows me griping rights when others don’t.)  And I love the ride in.  I really, really do.

And today was, for the most part, that day: I had a great ride in (almost floating on the balm of self-satisfaction for having changed my first flat, all by myself).  And the ride home would have been equally great, had I not tangled with my own clumsiness.  You see, when I geared up and got on, I hadn’t latched my pannier (the Detours Toocan Pannier ) and, a few blocks away from launch, my foot started smacking the bag.  When I pulled off at the nearest open area, I failed to unlatch from my clips, and – well – there’s no other way to put it: ungracefully flailed and flopped over (HARD!) onto the pavement.  Gash on my knee:  2 inches.  Bruise on my hip:  7 inches (likely).  Damage to my dignity: countless.  Many thanks to the folks who inquired after me (most of whom continued on when I bravely stated, “nope, fine, just clumsy”); most thanks to the very kind fella who stopped, and waited, until I was up, dusted off, helmet re-set on head, and responding to questions.  The ride home was fine – a little twingy, and the blood running down my leg was a bit unsettling – but I made it, and though I’m a bit sore, I am fine.

My friend James tells me that people who really ride bike occasionally spill a little blood, but in so doing, earn their bragging rights.  I guess I got a few more of those today…but I would feel better about that were it not such a stupid, avoidable, clumsy accident.  D’oh!