*%@$%^!!
The last 15 minutes of your ride should be fun. That is until you pass someone giving them plenty of verbal warning and room they still drift into your line, so you give them more room. Now, you move over more, they drift more. It’s hard to stop a train wreck. Now it’s time to take a beating, served up by wet leaves, a wet log under the leaves, which now is as slick as a wet PVC pipe.
Well you get the idea, a lame 15mph yard sale. All I hear is “dude, you alright?” I can’t say anything to this guy, ’cause whatever I say is gonna be bad. At first I can’t feel anything, then the wave of pain starts… Anger, pain, anger.
You know it’s not as if the guy tried to make me ride off into no man’s land, but. Just hold your line and all would have been fine. Don’t bring the suck!
So I hobble back to the truck, the blood starts flowing out of the cuts and gashes from the fall. My left knee swells up. I’m starting to get a love handle on my left side that wasn’t there before the ride. Clean up from this crash is gonna hurt.
For some reason dumb slow falls like this hurt more than anything else. I mean after breaking 24 bones in my career. It still baffles me how this type of crash can leave you so jacked up.
