Sometimes a bad day on the bike is, actually, not better than a good day at the office.
Firstly, I’ve had my 2nd tumble in as many weeks, at a roundabout in Uzès. It wasn’t my fault (unlike the sheep shit last week) and I was rewarded with a banged-up bike, an unknown sound down around the cranks, and this:
That was yesterday, and the swelling has come down a lot and nothing seems permanently damaged. I always think it’s the end of the world when I crash, but from the comments I’ve been getting on my FB post about it, it does seem like a pretty regular thing to happen. I still don’t like it, especially when it takes out a €200 pair of cycling shoes. John went down in the same crash, incidentally, and had similar woes, including 5 broken spokes and a bright red road rash.
But it doesn’t stop there, unfortunately. Coach Rob was out for a ride in Calgary the same day and had a gun pulled on him from a guy in a pick-up. The pick-up drove past him, slowed down and at least one of the assholes in it started hurling profanities, saying, of course, that bikes don’t belong on the road. Then the passenger pulled a hand gun and pretended to shoot. Rob was petrified and too freaked out to think about getting the licence plate number as the drove off. He was pretty shaken up, unsurprisingly, but got back out on the road today.
I’m starting to fear for our civilization.