Apparently yesterday after a long record of no mis-haps on the bike the "universe" felt fit to right the scale. I pride myself on my cat like ability to land on my feet, avoiding collisions, falls, slips, ditches, cracks- and that has left me with plenty of near misses...except with the snowboard. My head and the snow, contacted with near-concussion regularity. Skiing, biking, simple things like walking... i stay up and mobile. Except for yesterday.
As it is, southbound went well- a headwind that kept me cool, a slight but not overbearing resistance to my imperciptable downhill journey- and a nice smooth turn to my destination. ON the way back it was quite a different story, as if I had set sail on an entirely bad day, an ill-willed a'curse'd day. The sun beat fiercely down upon me. There was no wind. I was going "uphill", out of water, butt sore and arm tired, cursing my way home along the few miles stretch of Lankershim Blvd. Eternity, and why I hate northbound journeys crossed my mind.
At one point a motorist felt fit to tell me to follow the traffic rules, to which i responded or rather yelled, without an explative i might add, "What are you talking about?" Which increased the muttering dissonance in my head- "I was turning left, sure i didn't signal, but the car stopped so i went, damn sun, and i'm like any other motorist, and people really shouldn't speak when they don't know what they're talking about and i'm wearing a helmut and i'm doing my best, and i'm hot, did i do something wrong? i didn't do anything wrong! Jackasses, all of them jackasses."
Quiet down you.
So with relief I realize I am .2 miles from home. All i have to do is TURN RIGHT onto my street. Alas, an abnormal amount of water happens to gather there in the pocket. For no apparent reason.
I'm going a normal speed. I'm not even leaning into the turn. I recall looking down and even-ing out my feet. Apparently that slight movement of foot to pedal was my down fall.
And down i went, like a beautiful and fast slide into home base, down I went into the water. Woosh. Muckish, sewage-like, dirty with oil and grit and who-knows-whatelse-water. There was a moment where I said to myself, "Ah, refreshing". But soon as the smell and the grit running up my right arm and neck refused to dissipate I was forced to come to terms with my unpleasant condition.
To add insult to my uninjured state a silver honda turned right onto the street and didn't even slow down. Maybe they thought I was "okay"? I don't know. But I was on the ground and they kept going. A simple window roll down, and a "Hey are you okay?" Would've sufficed or perhaps a perplexed look or even abject laughter, but no nothing. You know how I hate indifference! Asshole. That's what's wrong with the world. I don't even have the right to be embarrassed. Just pissed off!
Not only that but I slid on my right side which had my phone in the mesh pocket of my backpack. My precious, beautiful phone. I peddled home with fury or okay, consternation, and slammed my bike to the ground. (I felt bad about it afterward)... I then proceeded to ply open my phone, get the q-tips and the air duster out and go to work. Nevermind that my ass was soaking wet or that I was dripping sewage puddles- I had to save my phone.
(And SCENE)
The next day, without even a scab or a battle scar to show for it, I woke with pain on my left side and a krik in my neck. My phone is still working. That's the important thing.
1 comment:
HIGHlarious, but I mean that with compassion. "Muhahahaha", as you would say. I mock you 'cause I love you.
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