on 7/23/01 2:52 PM, Kelly, Katie at kkelly@spss.com wrote:
> According to my master plan, I shall not purchase the road bike until
> October, even November. The original reasoning was one of money conservation
> and thorough research before making this purchase.
>
> In the meantime, in an effort to conserve fuel and get some exercise, I
> decided to dust off my trusty Trek 850. The stories behind this bike are not
> very interesting.
>
> But I don't think I published this to this list or not, but last March I had
> parachuted in Buckey, AZ. The day before, I went mountain biking on the
> rocks in Sedona. Anyway, I thought what happened in Sedona was just bad
> luck, but I'm starting to think it was an omen.
>
> What happened in Sedona was, after a full day of walking my bike on the
> rocks and through the canyons, on the way back to the bike rental shop,
> while travelling on a dirt, yet straight, path, some invisible force
> propelled me into a tree. The lasting result is a nearly foot long scar
> running down my left thigh. It looks like a true battle wound, something
> that could conjur up images of me, in an act of athletic glory, failing to
> make that landing from one rock to another, but the true story is, there was
> simply no reason for me to hit that tree.
>
> My other two accidents, which happened last Friday, are no less glamarous,
> but are, I believe, a form of communication, in the shape of an accident.
>
> The first message occured in the morning, as I was lifting up the bike rack
> at the front of the bus. I was merely waving to the bus driver, the polite
> thing to do, while stepping backwards. Well, what happened was, I don't know
> what happened. I tripped over the bike, and fell on my right side, on to my
> bike.
>
> And it really hurt, and I was really embarassed, but that just pales in
> comparison to what happened later, that fateful afternoon.
>
> I decided to get off at San Quentin, to get in a full ride all the way home
> to downtown San Rafael.
>
> It was a lot hotter in San Rafael than in Pt. Richmond. So, I tied my
> sweatshirt around my waist.
>
> And what happened was, I was peddling as hard as I could, have to get in
> shape, you know, approaching a very busy intersection, signaling, with
> confidence, that I was going to turn left in the middle of a whole bunch of
> angry people in their cars who could kill me quite easily, if they wanted
> to.
>
> And suddenly, my trusty 850 was slowing down, for no reason. What? Is the
> tire going flat? What's going on? Better pull over, I thought. Get out of
> the way. So, it was as I was turning right to pull over that my sweatshirt
> completely locked the rear wheel, and I suddenly went sliding down the
> asphalt, landing in precisely the same spots, the same bruises, where I had
> fallen that morning, while saluting the bus driver.
>
> It really hurt, yet, somehow, as I was falling, I felt like I knew what I
> was doing, flopping to the ground like that. Practice really does make
> perfect. And although I did not see the car coming, I had successfully moved
> my being and bike to the side of the road, and began a pacing-limping ritual
> first perfected after landing in the tree.
>
> But what hurt more were the two drunk women who saw the whole thing in the
> bar, and came running over to help me. "Man, you almost got killed!" said
> one of them. "Holy $#it, you need some water, honey?"
>
> I wanted to just keep going, to just get this out of my system.
>
> "Girl, you need to sit down. Look at her, shakin' like that."
>
> "Looks like you need to get used to your bike, honey."
>
> "You almost got hit by that car, did you see that? That was close!"
>
> "Ah, she's got some road burn on 'er, look at that!"
>
> "Ooowee, how you gonna get home?"
>
> I escaped that terrible scene, and thankfully, eventually, made it home.
> Thanks to a friend, who happened to be nearby, who gave me a ride home in
> her Saab.
>
> If anything, I'm developing a deeper respect for gravity.
>
> Katie K.
What color was the Saab?
MJ
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