OK, what are some stupid things looking back that you did when you first started riding..

I had owned a cross bike for a only a couple of months and decided I wanted to ride 100 miles, so I did when we went down to Eugene/Springfield Oregon. The advantage is this would be a totally flat ride. The only problem (which I didn't see as a problem at the time) was I had no bike clothing, in particular shorts. Just wore regular clothes, shorts, underwear etc. Talk about having a raw arse the next day.. As soon as we got home I headed off and got some bike shorts and have never looked back. I also remember on that ride the route I picked was only 90 miles or so, so I remember riding back and forth up and down some blocks around my mother in laws house where we were staying just so I'd get the 100 miles in. It was like the longest 10 miles I think I have ever ridden.

Clipless pedals of course almost everyone has the falling over story. In my case it was due to the fact that there wasn't enough room between the SPD cleat and the recess in the shoe, so the cleat in effect stuck against the rubber and wouldn't release. Didn't help the feeling though when you fall over at a stop sign along side of a car...to onlookers you are a dufus anyway.

OK, what are some stupid things looking back that you did when you first started riding..

I had owned a cross bike for a only a couple of months and decided I wanted to ride 100 miles, so I did when we went down to Eugene/Springfield Oregon. The advantage is this would be a totally flat ride. The only problem (which I didn't see as a problem at the time) was I had no bike clothing, in particular shorts. Just wore regular clothes, shorts, underwear etc. Talk about having a raw arse the next day.. As soon as we got home I headed off and got some bike shorts and have never looked back. I also remember on that ride the route I picked was only 90 miles or so, so I remember riding back and forth up and down some blocks around my mother in laws house where we were staying just so I'd get the 100 miles in. It was like the longest 10 miles I think I have ever ridden.

Clipless pedals of course almost everyone has the falling over story. In my case it was due to the fact that there wasn't enough room between the SPD cleat and the recess in the shoe, so the cleat in effect stuck against the rubber and wouldn't release. Didn't help the feeling though when you fall over at a stop sign along side of a car...to onlookers you are a dufus anyway.
1) Wore underwear with bike shorts...boxers even.
2) Wore bike shorts backwards

First ride with Look pedals, ~1988, I rolled up one of those white posts in the middle of the road that divides lanes going in the same direction before an intersection, and rested my hand on the top so I wouldn't have to unclip. Imagine my surprise when the hidden hinge-thingy at the bottom of the post yielded to the pressure, unceremoniously dumping me on the pavement.

1) Wore underwear with bike shorts...boxers even.

Agreed. I finally realized how much more comfortable it is to ditch the cotton briefs. I wear under armour, but its like a friction guard agains the chamois and fits just like a pair of bike shorts. Much more comfortable.

Pull uo in front of my house, neighbors out doing yard work......he asks me how far I rode, I puff out my chest, say 55 miles and then stop without unclipping ........and fall dead over sideways. We were all laughing so hard I couldn't get either up or out from under my bike. Neighbors still give me a hard time about it.

Brainless sometimes.
Len

The term "Artie Johnson" refers to someone being stuck in their pedals and falling over on their bike. He was a comedian who did a skit on the television show Laugh In where he had troubles with his feet being attached to the pedals.

Some of the younger noobs (myself included) may be a little perplexed by this term. If I missed something, please add to the tale. I've never seen the skit, but this is what I have gathered from perusing the web out of general curiousity.

The term "Artie Johnson" refers to someone being stuck in their pedals and falling over on their bike. He was a comedian who did a skit on the television show Laugh In where he had troubles with his feet being attached to the pedals.

Some of the younger noobs (myself included) may be a little perplexed by this term. If I missed something, please add to the tale. I've never seen the skit, but this is what I have gathered from perusing the web out of general curiousity.
Artie was well before clipless pedals. He just plain fell over - on a tricycle. You had to be there. :-) TF

The term "Artie Johnson" refers to someone being stuck in their pedals and falling over on their bike. He was a comedian who did a skit on the television show Laugh In where he had troubles with his feet being attached to the pedals.

Some of the younger noobs (myself included) may be a little perplexed by this term. If I missed something, please add to the tale. I've never seen the skit, but this is what I have gathered from perusing the web out of general curiousity.

I remember him riding a kids tricycle when he did the skit.

I remember him riding a kids tricycle when he did the skit.

Case in point. It was out of my generation, but its a term that is used fairly often on these boards and on group rides. Thanks for the help.

Most embarrassing ever was showing off in college on my new Peugeot A08 ("Man, this bike cost ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS!"). I was arcing across the Quad in full view of 6,000 halter-topped hotties, and I was so dumb I didn't even know not to pedal in a corner. The inside pedal hit the ground amd catapulted me over the high side in a shower of sparks, blood, textbooks and metallic green paint.
Second was a few years later in my first century, when a group of faster riders went by. I tucked in behind them and drafted for 15 or 20 miles, picking up from 15mph to 18-20. It was great--but I had no idea there was etiquette involved. When somebody rotated back from the lead, I'd politely drop back and leave space for him to go in front of me, rather than working my way up and taking a pull. I was honestly trying not to screw up their paceline, not take advantage of them, and I couldn't understand why they were rude to me.

well, of course I've fallen over w/ clipless, but the real embarrasment was when I fell over in toe clips. I had them cinched down super tight, and was trying to do a trackstand at a red light. you all know what happens next. It especially sucked b/c it was the end of school, so about 100 kids were crossing the street right in front of me. I have since almost perfected my trackstanding ability, but no one seems to notice. I do get some envious smiles when I wheelie one-handed, though :p

i did the underwear with shorts thing (who didn´t when they started riding?) and also the falling over sideways in the street while not being able to unclip (that´s like doing a 25 in under the hour - you´re not a true cyclist till you´ve done it!) in my younger days i always remember (and am reminded often) of the time we did a club ride on a really really cold day, one of those days where waterbottles turn to ice after a couple of hours, and i thought that if walm-up balm works for legs, well why not the face too? i learnt the hard way that warm-up balm is for the legs, and the legs only...

I frequently think of the time when I was a kid with my first bike. For some reason I thought the headset might need some adjusting or lubrication. As I started to loosen the nut at the top of the headtube (this was WAY before threadless headsets), several of the loose balls fell out. I quickly turned the nut the other way, never got to lube anything, and the bike stayed that way for many years until I finally gave it away. :D

The term "Artie Johnson" refers to someone being stuck in their pedals and falling over on their bike. He was a comedian who did a skit on the television show Laugh In where he had troubles with his feet being attached to the pedals.

Some of the younger noobs (myself included) may be a little perplexed by this term. If I missed something, please add to the tale. I've never seen the skit, but this is what I have gathered from perusing the web out of general curiousity.
I like Horizontal Track Stand better.

The term "Artie Johnson" refers to someone being stuck in their pedals and falling over on their bike. He was a comedian who did a skit on the television show Laugh In where he had troubles with his feet being attached to the pedals.

Some of the younger noobs (myself included) may be a little perplexed by this term. If I missed something, please add to the tale. I've never seen the skit, but this is what I have gathered from perusing the web out of general curiousity.

He rode the little tricycle and would always come to a stop and then fall over. Didn't he usually wear a rain slicker?

3 hour ride, got home took a shower and my tiny-Bob was sore and chaffed. Now, I'm well-endowed but I had no idea the discomfort that can be caused by not wearing lycra/chamois. I didn't have sex for about a month. Then (now ex) wife didn't seem to notice.

BT

Wear Proper Cycling shorts!

the first being from many many years ago, when I bought my first bike at like 10 years old. I bought it, it was a Sears stingray style, shiny red, with bannana seat an slick rear tire. So cool. I was working on it, I recall changing out the chainring for a smaller one. Checking out how things were working on a test ride, watching the chain on the chainring and NOT watching the parked car on the street....you get the picture.

the second example being from last Saturday afternoon riding the Windsor trail near Santa Fe w/friends. Tons of water in the Tesuque river (river by our standards, easterners wouldn't call it a stream) due to very wet winter and very warm spring which means all the snow melts fast. Anway, usually the river crossings are ridable...not this weekend...but what the heck, I've fallen into the river before! Well this time the "Artie Johnson" into the river resulted in one very wet cold MTB'er with the worst calf cramp in the world! All I could do is lay in the water and try to stretch out the cramp whilst my colleague drug my bike off me.....

Dumb things then and now.....a lifelong pattern perhaps?

TH

I once had a flat, and I did the whole tube change in nothing flat, but I neglected to make sure the tire was properly seated. So I started off, and in a few feet I felt a weird hopping in my front tire. I stopped to see what was wrong with the wheel. I started to inspect the tire, and with my nose a few inches from the tire, noted what appeared to be the tube sticking out under the... KA-BLAM!!! The tire basically exploded in my face. Not good. I couldn't hear a thing for a few hours, and had ringing in my ears that persisted for a few days. No permanent damage, thank goodness, but a good object lesson for me...

the first being from many many years ago, when I bought my first bike at like 10 years old. I bought it, it was a Sears stingray style, shiny red, with bannana seat an slick rear tire. So cool. I was working on it, I recall changing out the chainring for a smaller one. Checking out how things were working on a test ride, watching the chain on the chainring and NOT watching the parked car on the street....you get the picture.
TH

Hey! I think I rode that exact same model of bike into the back of a parked car as a kid too. It must have been a defective product. Mine was blue, tho.

Might not have been the same bike, though. Did yours have the twin (side by side) top tubes, instead of just the one? I still remember jamming my math book spine between the tubes to carry it for the ride home from school. Coaster brake plus a front hand brake?

Hey! I think I rode that exact same model of bike into the back of a parked car as a kid too. It must have been a defective product. Mine was blue, tho.

Must be a common occurance. I've done the same thing. I was looking down at my chain and I fell into one of those street drains with the bars only going one direction. Booby-traps! I was only going about 10mph so I didn't quite get flipped over the handlebars, but it still hurt.

I've never done anything stoopid on a bike. :D :D :D

First set of clipless pedals I had were on my mountain bike. First time falling over wasn't bad at all. Fell over in the cushy grass with noone around to see. Second time, I was riding along a single track trail that followed a dry creek bed. The creek was about 3-4 feet down a steep embankment. I had to stop for whatever reason and failed to get unclipped. Naturally I fell over toward the creekbed. Me and the bike went tumbling down to the rocky bottom.

Wasn't me, but I watched someone use a gas station air hose on their road tire- the compressor was putting out plenty of air, and the resulting explosion and tire confetti was pretty funny.

I imagine the rider probably need to replace his shorts along with the tube and tire asthat was seriously loud.

++++++++++

Mine whould be having my foot come unclipped on a mountain bike (crap Ritchey pedals) at speed and fly into my front wheel between the spokes, which then (painfully) stopped the wheel instantly and catapulted me into a bush head first. This happened in front of 5 other riders. Not my finest moment.

:(

[QUOTE=Coolhand]Wasn't me, but I watched someone use a gas station air hose on their road tire- the compressor was putting out plenty of air, and the resulting explosion and tire confetti was pretty funny.

I've done this, pretty funny really. That was back in the days of riding mountain bikes in boxer shorts. LOL!!! Good stuff!

BT

...if you haven't seen this, it's pretty hysterical...

http://www.northroadcyclingclub.org.uk/Articles/Roadie_Slang/P-R.htm

During one of those big city community-wide rides (about 10,000 people), I observed people doing all sorts of crazy things on all sorts of bikes (from colnagos to rusting hulks of steel).

One guy in particular looked down at his drivetrain which was making a racket. When he finally looked up, he saw a three-foot traffic cone in front of him. He plowed into it and went head over buttt and took out two other people behind him. A nearby EMT ran over to offer assistance, but two other riders watching the idiot cyclist on the ground didn't see him. They bumped into him and wrecked (on their Colnagos). Yes...that was me. 5 cyclists temporarily out of the ride. Oops.

A friend of mine got me riding on a hybird/mountain bike. I was learning a lot (mostly from rbr.com) and starting to think I was better than I was. (I hadn't moved up to road bikes yet.) We were on an early morning ride and stopped in Huntington Beach (yeah, the famous "surf city") for breakfast and (Irish) coffee. Leaving, I decided I would just ride down the steps alongside the pier down to the beach. Didn't move back on my seat, got a little too much front brake, and went right over the handlebars Landed smack dab on my head on the concrete stairs. If not for the helmet, I would have leftin an ambulance, drooling and saying "aaah, ehh, oh, ahh, nahh, neehh, ahh, oohh, nahh nehhh," and drooling more.

As it was, there was an enormous "OOOHHHH!!!!" from everyone around as I crashed. But, I rolled, shook my head, checked over the bike and hopped back on to ride down the last flight of steps (with less front brake, though ever as much hutzpah). Thank you, Lord, and Bell helmets.



OK, what are some stupid things looking back that you did when you first started riding..

I had owned a cross bike for a only a couple of months and decided I wanted to ride 100 miles, so I did when we went down to Eugene/Springfield Oregon. The advantage is this would be a totally flat ride. The only problem (which I didn't see as a problem at the time) was I had no bike clothing, in particular shorts. Just wore regular clothes, shorts, underwear etc. Talk about having a raw arse the next day.. As soon as we got home I headed off and got some bike shorts and have never looked back. I also remember on that ride the route I picked was only 90 miles or so, so I remember riding back and forth up and down some blocks around my mother in laws house where we were staying just so I'd get the 100 miles in. It was like the longest 10 miles I think I have ever ridden.

Clipless pedals of course almost everyone has the falling over story. In my case it was due to the fact that there wasn't enough room between the SPD cleat and the recess in the shoe, so the cleat in effect stuck against the rubber and wouldn't release. Didn't help the feeling though when you fall over at a stop sign along side of a car...to onlookers you are a dufus anyway.

This one is easy...

Hopping a curb at about 22 km/h
Underestimating the heigth by about 2-3 inches (I swear these things were about twice the heigth as the one in the old city I used to live!)
Hitting the ledge of the curb dead-on
Flying about 10 feet from site of impact... thank you Look clipless

And finally... getting back up to see if my bike was alright.

:D

In college I got a '99 Cannondale F900 mountain bike with hydraulic discs and everything.

I was riding it around the campus and this guy I came up on said "Hey, nice bike!" I said, "Thanks!" and turned to ride down some stairs. Of course, I endo it and end up at the bottom with the bike on top...

I've been riding "rat trap" pedals and straps since about 1960, so it's not like I'm some sort of Newbie. I have a "new" driveway -- Yeah, that's the reason, the driveway is new. It's about a quarter mile and steep, and gravel. In the pickup truck this is first gear stuff and the wheels will spin in the gravel if you lose momentum. I've had the truck lurch and die on me coming up the steep part -- waiting for the deer to get out of the way and over the fences.

Anyway, on a bike -- MTB it's "granny" and I need to keep my butt on the saddle to maintain traction. I've walked down to the mailbox and slid in the gravel wearing jogging shoes. In heavy rain the gravel gets rutted from the water running down the hill. It's steep.

So . . . coming off a fast half century and feeling strong. I figure I have a triple in the front, get into the granny and let's get up the drive. Last words to myself were, "Nah, I don't need to loosen the straps. I want the feet secure in the pedals."

Yeah, right -- picked a good line on the first pitch, up through the grove of trees and onto a flat section. You can't get up speed on a road bike because it's rutted gravel and you need to pick a fine line.

I missed the line, rear wheel started slipping. I lost all forward motion and fell over. Feet strapped in. I grabbed for the fence for support. It's "horse wire" -- 4" mesh. It won't hold up a rider on a bike! So, slide down the side of the wire fence and into the grass. No damage, except to my pride.

I know better! :D

OK, this is my first post on this forum. I am a strictly wannabe writer, and I posted this story on a non-bike site a while back. For what it is worth, I just bought a FUJI Pro to replace the bike referenced in the story below, and made my first clip folley on my inagural ride right in front of a car lot yesterday - twice in two blocks! Swollen knee with road rash, torn seat on my brand new ride and much wiser, the rest of the same ride route described below went much more quickly. :)

____________

It must have been a sign

As I am starting to settle into a new life (which is another story for another time), I found myself with enough moments to recap an especially significant personal event that occurred several weeks ago now.

It is not a short tale, as few of mine are, but it is therapy for me to write. If you care to join along for the ride, great. If not, no hard feelings from me and I hope you don’t mind ignoring the rest of this post…

To be precise, it was late afternoon on Easter Sunday. It was unseasonably warm that day – it got into the 80s – and after the typical Easter gatherings one might partake in earlier in the day, I found myself feeling like getting some exercise.

For those of you who don’t know me, I am about the world’s worst athlete. Well, maybe I play an OK game of RB, but then again I have been at it for about 30 years now. But many of those who do know me think that I am some kind of exercise nut. I don’t think so, but I guess that is one of those “Perception is reality” things, right? I do admit to trying to get a minimum of an hour’s worth of exercise about 6 times per week, or did until this fateful day anyway. It has to do with losing about 25% of my (excess) body weight about 10 years ago and refusing to ever gain it back.

I have also been described by many as the most accident-prone person they have ever met. I don’t know about that, except I do have to admit that I don’t know anyone else who matches my track record, unless they specifically try to engage in body-damaging activities, like, say, car jumping or “Jackassing.”

So anyway, with such a beautiful afternoon, it seemed a great idea to dig my bike out and make my first “Four Boat Ramp Tour” of the year. The tour is a 21-mile loop where I ride from my house in West Linn over the old OC/WL Bridge, ride through downtown Oregon City to Clackamette, then up to Riverside Park on the Clack. From there it is to Meldrum Bar, then past Clackamette again, and finally passing by Sportcraft prior to riding back across the bridge and on home.

The loop enables me to look at conditions and crowds at each of the ramps, and gets me close to fishing if not actually doing it.

Over the past three spring/summer/falls I have ridden this route probably 50 times, without incident.

You can guess where this is going, can’t you?

The ride was typically exhausting and hard on the legs and lungs, especially as the first ride of the season, but uneventful, until just after crossing the Highway 99 bridge over the Clackamas on the last leg of the ride. It was then that things changed.

You see, I ride on the sidewalk for that one portion of the ride. I do so, because, as any of you locals know, the bridge is narrow with no emergency lane, let alone bike lane, and traffic tends to go well over the posted 45 MPH limit there. Not a place for a bike. Even though it is flat and I am running full bore at that stretch, the top speed on my street-tired mountain bike is about 25. At least with my legs. So, I choose to ride the sidewalk.

It is prudent to stay on the sidewalk after crossing the bridge because the curb is quite high with a 12 – 18” drop and coming off it is hard on the bike and can be a little dicey at full speed.

There are seldom pedestrians there, so I usually stay on the sidewalk to the next intersection, where I can make a right turn onto the street that gets me off the walkway via a wheelchair ramp at the corner.

OK, now that perhaps you can envision the environmental conditions, let me explain that just prior to this I had passed a couple riding in the opposite direction. I noticed that both of them had those little dental-style rearview mirrors on their helmets. I was thinking that they looked pretty cool, and handy, and was thinking that perhaps one of my offspring could get me one of them for Father’s Day if it was suggested as an idea.

As I got near the upcoming intersection, pumping my legs for everything they were worth, I was also cognizant that I was making surprisingly good time for myself. My best time for the ride is 1:06, and I suspected I would be close to that with a good push on the last 2-mile stretch. I looked at my speedometer. It read 23, 23.5, 24 and gaining. Outstanding, I thought, though I knew the thighs were going to burn for days after this ride. No one on the sidewalk ahead. Push!

It was nearly 6 PM on Easter Sunday, and there was quite a bit of traffic on the highway. So, recognizing that at the velocity I was approaching the corner meant that I was going to come off the sidewalk and, though turning right, come onto the street a ways, I decided it would be prudent to look over my left shoulder to check for oncoming traffic – like say, a bus or something. “Dang”, I thought. “I sure wish I had one of those mirrors. Push! Push! Push!”

So I looked over that left shoulder when it happened. A life-changing event.

WHAM!!!

WHA?? WHAM!!!

Suddenly, all I could think about was how much unexpected PAIN I was in! I actually audibly whimpered out, “hhhhelp mmme. hhhhelp mmmmme.”

What happened?

Let’s back up about 1/4 a second.

What happened was, as I looked over that shoulder, my left hand made a totally unexpected and significant impact with a very stationary, strong, steel Tri-Met bus stop sign!

That was immediately followed by my left shoulder glancing off it. At the same time, the handlebars on the bike jerked violently to the left, which in turn caused the rest of my body to corkscrew to the right, straight downward toward the concrete below. I was mildly aware of trying the tuck and roll premise as the top of my right shoulder impacted with the Portland Cement below. That was followed a split second later by the left side of my head, then my right arm, right knee, left hand all hitting, and finally the bike itself landing on top of me as the sprocket dug into my left calf. I had traveled about 4 feet from the sign.

25 to 0 in four feet.

During all of this I was well aware that my head had hit really hard on the sidewalk. As it did I kept waiting for blackout to occur, but instead soon realized that the only real thing I felt was just an unbelievable amount of pain radiating from the right shoulder. Thank goodness for helmets!

But the shoulder!

You see, about two years ago I had surgery on the same shoulder, a painful procedure known as “Manipulative Intervention” which involved scoping it and, as the surgeon later told me, “jumping up and down on it with all my weight” to break up scar tissue in the rotator cuff joint. Don’t ask me how it got scarred. It had taken over 18 months after the surgery for it to feel somewhat good again. Suddenly, it felt as though I had just gone through the procedure again, only this time without the benefits of being knocked out and filled with morphine.

OK, returning to the moment at hand. As I lay there, moaning, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of nausea. I have had a few accidents in my time, but this was “special” in the immediacy of the onset of intense pain, nausea, and no doubt shock.

To my surprise, a couple of teenage skateboarders came upon my crumpled form, and gently picked the bike off me. Then a 30-something lady appeared as well. As the boys put the chain back on my ride, I actually made a couple of full sweeping motions with my shoulder. Wow. It wasn’t fractured. But it hurt so bad I couldn’t get up.

Although the boys never said anything to me, at least that I can recall, I think about it now and can just envision them having witnessed the whole thing and thinking, “Cool, Dude! Man, that was awesome!!”

The lady asked me if she should call for help, numerous times, but for several moments I could not even respond. I was starting to become aware of the other things that were going to be reminders of this day for a long time, like the egg-beaters on my arm, knee, shoulder etc.., (I was only wearing shorts and a wife-beater Tee in addition to shoes and that thank-goodness helmet) and my right chest was starting to ache, as was the right side of my neck. I finally stood up, but then had to sit right back down on the grass next to the sidewalk.

Finally, I stood up again, and despite common sense, stammered out to the trying-to-be-helpful lady that I just lived over on the other side of the river, and thought I could make it home. She looked at me like I was somewhat nuts, bloodied and beaten as I was, but smiled, and said she needed to get back to her children at McDonalds. I thanked her, and the skateboarders, and threw a leg over the bike.

Here is the ridiculous and honest truth about this point in time: I knew I needed to make a trip to the ER, but I was in too much pain to dig my wallet out to look at the card inside it to see which hospital my insurance “preferred” that I go to. I just wanted to get home to re-group, then thought I could make my way in for a check.

The right turn, for those of you not familiar with this area, turns down a slight incline for a block before coming to a T. From there turning left would get me onto the pathway adjacent to but off Hwy 99, and from there access to the old bridge and home beyond.

So I thought.

I started coasting down the hill, but turning onto the flat road and actually having to start pedaling, changed things. As I got under the 205 bridge just before Sportcraft, the pain in my shoulder and suddenly my neck, combined with the nausea, just became overwhelming. I actually started feeling like my neck might be broken. The mental gyrations of thinking about how one’s right shoulder and left side of one’s head land almost simultaneously with significant force were hitting me – try to envision this if you will - and that was a tad daunting.

Fortunately, my cell phone had survived the impact, so I called and asked my 23-year-old son to come pick me up.

I did not tell him why.

After what seemed like a long time, but really wasn’t, he showed up, hopped out of his car, walked around it and said, “Did you get a fla – HOLY @*!&!!!!!!”

He had to help me get in his car, then threw the bike in back. I asked him to take me home, but he totally ignored the request and immediately headed up to Willamette Falls Hospital. I was in no shape to argue.

As it turned out, the ER at the hospital was being remodeled, so he had to let me out at a temporary entrance about 100’ from the intake area. He told me to wait while he parked the car, but I decided to just head in.

I had the feeling of some Civil War victim as I entered the reception area – alone, bleeding all over, limping, torn clothing and obviously showing signs of “discomfort” as I put my most stoic face on. The ER was totally packed – as is often the case on first nice days of spring when people tend to take advantage of it in sometimes reckless ways – but they took a look at me and sent me quickly to the triage nurse. She literally kicked a patient out of her office to do a quick assessment, and then announced, “We’re moving you to the head of the line.” I felt so honored.

I went back out to the waiting area for a short bit, and then for the first time looked at my left hand. The right side of it was bleeding from impact with the pavement, but, while it didn’t exactly hurt, something just wasn’t right about the left side of it. Sort of a tingly feeling through the haze of all the rest the agony I was in, but then I noticed it.

“Matt,” I said. “My hand is messed up. See how the knuckle is flat?”

“Not really, Dad.”

But I knew.

Soon I was back in the ER proper where several nurses and docs started in on me. They poked and prodded and sent me to X-ray three separate times. First for my chest, then the shoulder, and finally my neck. During this time I mentioned my left hand was not right, but they were so busy looking for internal injuries and whatnot, that they did not examine it. In fact, when the nurse came in to insert an IV for those wonderful mind-numbing, I-don’t-care-that-it-still-hurts-like-crap-anymore-drugs, she started putting it in the top of my left hand until I reminded her it didn’t feel right. She moved the insertion point up to my wrist.

But after an hour and a half of cleaning, examining, X-raying and drugging, they decided that nothing was broken and that I could be on my way with a splint, veins filled with opiates and anti-nausea solution, and a script for an industrial sized bottle of Vicodin.

It was later the next week that the radiologist report came back confirming what I already knew from experience.

Broken rib on the right side. It happened when I landed on my right arm. I know this because the last time I crashed on my bike and landed on my left arm I suffered nine hairline fractures on three separate ribs. Do not ask me why I crashed on my bike that time. Besides, that was 10 years ago. I hardly ever crash. This time it was only one rib fracture. Much better. Right.

On Monday morning I finally rose after a generally sleepless night, and decided that my left hand, now swollen on the back below the ring and little fingers to about the size of a golf ball, probably should be checked out. Hmmmmm….

It still didn’t hurt compared to the rest of my body, especially my right shoulder. For some reason I felt like I had run into a concrete wall with no padding at about 25 MPH, but something as abnormal-looking as my hand was is kinda hard to ignore. I was supposed to drive to Seattle that morning for an important meeting with a client, but considering I looked and felt like a Beruit bombing casualty I decided to forgo the trip. Especially since my arm was basically feeling like, and all had the functionality of, an oak limb tied to my shoulder.

So I made an appointment for the primary quack clinic to see me, knowing they would X-ray and confirm that it too was broken. Since I had suffered a broken knuckle on my right hand when I was 16 – do not ask me how – I knew they probably wouldn’t do much for it, but then again it did look pretty strange.

It was as the fog was clearing that morning that I realized that I hit the sign with my hand. Until that point I really didn’t understand why I went down so fast and hard. “Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!” was all I could think of. Slowly the realization came as to why my hand was swollen and my surgically repaired LEFT shoulder was feeling a dull pain (Yes, left shoulder. A similar operation as was done to the right had been done about five years ago. Do not ask me why my left shoulder needed surgery).

I hit the signpost! D’Oh!!!

In great agony, I drove one-broken handed (remember, it is the RIGHT side of my body that was really messed up) up to the clinic. Thank goodness for power steering. They X-rayed the hand, and the doc was in such a hurry with a Monday morning patient load, he looked briefly at the film before trying to tell me that it was just a massive contusion. I think he was observing the road rash on the right side of the hand and ignoring the other evidence.

But by the time I had returned home – no work for me that day – his nurse had already called with the “upon further review” report. She left a message saying the doc noticed I had broken the knuckle of my ring finger. Duh.

The radiologist report came back a couple days later and showed I had actually broken the knuckle below the little finger as well.

But when I called the office back to ask if I should be getting casted or such, the nurse told me to come back for a “baseball splint.” I did, met the doc in the hallway between him seeing patients, and he stated that, “It will probably be OK. But if it is still really swollen and sore in three or four weeks, let me know and I’ll refer you to a hand specialist.” Gee, thanks. They told me at least 8 weeks to heal bones in the hands and feet. I know that about the feet. Do not ask me how I know…

Epilogue:

Here it is, the 8-week anniversary of the crash. I will not bore you with the details of what it is like to come off of multiple injuries, except to say for those of you who remember, sorry, and for those of you who have never had to, I sure hope you don’t. The current assessment of the physical maladies is as follows:

Road rash: Essentially healed, though scarring remains at every point of impact.

Contusions: Healed nicely in the first couple of weeks. The green, purple and black fingers below the break included. The discoloration and swelling of the right and left shoulders is gone too.

Broken rib: It no longer hurts like crazy to cough or sneeze, (anybody who has had a rib injury knows of what I write here) and all and all feels pretty good unless something presses against it or I try to play racquetball.

Right side neck: Essentially OK, with moments of unexplainable sheer pain thrown in now and then for the heck of it. Still can’t hold a phone in the crimp of my neck.

Right shoulder: Hurts a lot. No sleeping on the right side. In fact, no sleeping in any position for more than a couple hours. Still very much aware during the day that it is connected to my body. But I did play RB last week for the first time. Not well. Here is the real ironic twist. I actually have more range of (slow) motion in that shoulder than before the wreck! It seems the impact must have knocked loose some more scar tissue. Much less expensive than the original surgery, but I still could not recommend it as an alternative. I am certain it will be months more before things are sorta normal again.

Head: No damage. I am absolutely convinced that had I not been wearing a helmet, this narrative would not be being written. I hit HARD. I was not aware of the condition of the helmet for several weeks, as my son had left it in the trunk of his car. Once I looked at it, I realized that it had done its job by crushing like an eggshell.

Left calf: For several days I did not even realize I was wounded there. That is where the sprocket dug in as the bike landed on me at the moment of impact. There are five teeth marks that became infected about a week later, but are finally healed. Thank goodness they gave me a tetanus shot at the ER.

Left hand: Feels OK, looks like Hell. This is the forever change in my body.



Where’s my knuckles?

Fortunately, none of the injuries were life-threatening in any way.

The bike came through unscathed, other than throwing the chain and the left brake pull. I took one for my bike!

Messages of this story:

1) WEAR YOUR HELMET
2) If you crash, and it feels bad, just go to the hospital. You’re gonna end up there anyway.
3) If it doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. No matter what they try to tell you.
4) Stay off the sidewalk when riding a bike. I know, I know. Next time I will just jump off the curb.
5) It is not feasible for a 48-year-old non-athlete to perform a tuck and roll maneuver in ¼ of a second.
6) WEAR YOUR HELMET

Moral:

One of my sisters wrote me a lengthy email, suggesting that all of the physical activity I get comes with a price, and, given my history and age, that, maybe;

IT MUST HAVE BEEN A SIGN.

A sign to slow down a little?

Feeling pretty good today. I was just thinking of putting on my new Bell helmet and taking a ride.

LIFINO

My first ride home I had the basket pedals ( Mind you, this was last week ) I was having a blast and got home fine and was rolling into my driveway and got a bit arrogant. I ripped my right foot out then I tried to " hop " off and my left foot didn't get out like I thought it would. Sideways I went.

OK, this is my first post on this forum. I am a strictly wannabe writer, and I posted this story on a non-bike site a while back. For what it is worth, I just bought a FUJI Pro to replace the bike referenced in the story below, and made my first clip folley on my inagural ride right in front of a car lot yesterday - twice in two blocks! Swollen knee with road rash, torn seat on my brand new ride and much wiser, the rest of the same ride route described below went much more quickly. :)

____________

It must have been a sign

As I am starting to settle into a new life (which is another story for another time), I found myself with enough moments to recap an especially significant personal event that occurred several weeks ago now.

It is not a short tale, as few of mine are, but it is therapy for me to write. If you care to join along for the ride, great. If not, no hard feelings from me and I hope you don’t mind ignoring the rest of this post…

To be precise, it was late afternoon on Easter Sunday. It was unseasonably warm that day – it got into the 80s – and after the typical Easter gatherings one might partake in earlier in the day, I found myself feeling like getting some exercise.

For those of you who don’t know me, I am about the world’s worst athlete. Well, maybe I play an OK game of RB, but then again I have been at it for about 30 years now. But many of those who do know me think that I am some kind of exercise nut. I don’t think so, but I guess that is one of those “Perception is reality” things, right? I do admit to trying to get a minimum of an hour’s worth of exercise about 6 times per week, or did until this fateful day anyway. It has to do with losing about 25% of my (excess) body weight about 10 years ago and refusing to ever gain it back.

I have also been described by many as the most accident-prone person they have ever met. I don’t know about that, except I do have to admit that I don’t know anyone else who matches my track record, unless they specifically try to engage in body-damaging activities, like, say, car jumping or “Jackassing.”

So anyway, with such a beautiful afternoon, it seemed a great idea to dig my bike out and make my first “Four Boat Ramp Tour” of the year. The tour is a 21-mile loop where I ride from my house in West Linn over the old OC/WL Bridge, ride through downtown Oregon City to Clackamette, then up to Riverside Park on the Clack. From there it is to Meldrum Bar, then past Clackamette again, and finally passing by Sportcraft prior to riding back across the bridge and on home.

The loop enables me to look at conditions and crowds at each of the ramps, and gets me close to fishing if not actually doing it.

Over the past three spring/summer/falls I have ridden this route probably 50 times, without incident.

You can guess where this is going, can’t you?

The ride was typically exhausting and hard on the legs and lungs, especially as the first ride of the season, but uneventful, until just after crossing the Highway 99 bridge over the Clackamas on the last leg of the ride. It was then that things changed.

You see, I ride on the sidewalk for that one portion of the ride. I do so, because, as any of you locals know, the bridge is narrow with no emergency lane, let alone bike lane, and traffic tends to go well over the posted 45 MPH limit there. Not a place for a bike. Even though it is flat and I am running full bore at that stretch, the top speed on my street-tired mountain bike is about 25. At least with my legs. So, I choose to ride the sidewalk.

It is prudent to stay on the sidewalk after crossing the bridge because the curb is quite high with a 12 – 18” drop and coming off it is hard on the bike and can be a little dicey at full speed.

There are seldom pedestrians there, so I usually stay on the sidewalk to the next intersection, where I can make a right turn onto the street that gets me off the walkway via a wheelchair ramp at the corner.

OK, now that perhaps you can envision the environmental conditions, let me explain that just prior to this I had passed a couple riding in the opposite direction. I noticed that both of them had those little dental-style rearview mirrors on their helmets. I was thinking that they looked pretty cool, and handy, and was thinking that perhaps one of my offspring could get me one of them for Father’s Day if it was suggested as an idea.

As I got near the upcoming intersection, pumping my legs for everything they were worth, I was also cognizant that I was making surprisingly good time for myself. My best time for the ride is 1:06, and I suspected I would be close to that with a good push on the last 2-mile stretch. I looked at my speedometer. It read 23, 23.5, 24 and gaining. Outstanding, I thought, though I knew the thighs were going to burn for days after this ride. No one on the sidewalk ahead. Push!

It was nearly 6 PM on Easter Sunday, and there was quite a bit of traffic on the highway. So, recognizing that at the velocity I was approaching the corner meant that I was going to come off the sidewalk and, though turning right, come onto the street a ways, I decided it would be prudent to look over my left shoulder to check for oncoming traffic – like say, a bus or something. “Dang”, I thought. “I sure wish I had one of those mirrors. Push! Push! Push!”

So I looked over that left shoulder when it happened. A life-changing event.

WHAM!!!

WHA?? WHAM!!!

Suddenly, all I could think about was how much unexpected PAIN I was in! I actually audibly whimpered out, “hhhhelp mmme. hhhhelp mmmmme.”

What happened?

Let’s back up about 1/4 a second.

What happened was, as I looked over that shoulder, my left hand made a totally unexpected and significant impact with a very stationary, strong, steel Tri-Met bus stop sign!

That was immediately followed by my left shoulder glancing off it. At the same time, the handlebars on the bike jerked violently to the left, which in turn caused the rest of my body to corkscrew to the right, straight downward toward the concrete below. I was mildly aware of trying the tuck and roll premise as the top of my right shoulder impacted with the Portland Cement below. That was followed a split second later by the left side of my head, then my right arm, right knee, left hand all hitting, and finally the bike itself landing on top of me as the sprocket dug into my left calf. I had traveled about 4 feet from the sign.

25 to 0 in four feet.

During all of this I was well aware that my head had hit really hard on the sidewalk. As it did I kept waiting for blackout to occur, but instead soon realized that the only real thing I felt was just an unbelievable amount of pain radiating from the right shoulder. Thank goodness for helmets!

But the shoulder!

You see, about two years ago I had surgery on the same shoulder, a painful procedure known as “Manipulative Intervention” which involved scoping it and, as the surgeon later told me, “jumping up and down on it with all my weight” to break up scar tissue in the rotator cuff joint. Don’t ask me how it got scarred. It had taken over 18 months after the surgery for it to feel somewhat good again. Suddenly, it felt as though I had just gone through the procedure again, only this time without the benefits of being knocked out and filled with morphine.

OK, returning to the moment at hand. As I lay there, moaning, I was suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of nausea. I have had a few accidents in my time, but this was “special” in the immediacy of the onset of intense pain, nausea, and no doubt shock.

To my surprise, a couple of teenage skateboarders came upon my crumpled form, and gently picked the bike off me. Then a 30-something lady appeared as well. As the boys put the chain back on my ride, I actually made a couple of full sweeping motions with my shoulder. Wow. It wasn’t fractured. But it hurt so bad I couldn’t get up.

Although the boys never said anything to me, at least that I can recall, I think about it now and can just envision them having witnessed the whole thing and thinking, “Cool, Dude! Man, that was awesome!!”

The lady asked me if she should call for help, numerous times, but for several moments I could not even respond. I was starting to become aware of the other things that were going to be reminders of this day for a long time, like the egg-beaters on my arm, knee, shoulder etc.., (I was only wearing shorts and a wife-beater Tee in addition to shoes and that thank-goodness helmet) and my right chest was starting to ache, as was the right side of my neck. I finally stood up, but then had to sit right back down on the grass next to the sidewalk.

Finally, I stood up again, and despite common sense, stammered out to the trying-to-be-helpful lady that I just lived over on the other side of the river, and thought I could make it home. She looked at me like I was somewhat nuts, bloodied and beaten as I was, but smiled, and said she needed to get back to her children at McDonalds. I thanked her, and the skateboarders, and threw a leg over the bike.

Here is the ridiculous and honest truth about this point in time: I knew I needed to make a trip to the ER, but I was in too much pain to dig my wallet out to look at the card inside it to see which hospital my insurance “preferred” that I go to. I just wanted to get home to re-group, then thought I could make my way in for a check.

The right turn, for those of you not familiar with this area, turns down a slight incline for a block before coming to a T. From there turning left would get me onto the pathway adjacent to but off Hwy 99, and from there access to the old bridge and home beyond.

So I thought.

I started coasting down the hill, but turning onto the flat road and actually having to start pedaling, changed things. As I got under the 205 bridge just before Sportcraft, the pain in my shoulder and suddenly my neck, combined with the nausea, just became overwhelming. I actually started feeling like my neck might be broken. The mental gyrations of thinking about how one’s right shoulder and left side of one’s head land almost simultaneously with significant force were hitting me – try to envision this if you will - and that was a tad daunting.

Fortunately, my cell phone had survived the impact, so I called and asked my 23-year-old son to come pick me up.

I did not tell him why.

After what seemed like a long time, but really wasn’t, he showed up, hopped out of his car, walked around it and said, “Did you get a fla – HOLY @*!&!!!!!!”

He had to help me get in his car, then threw the bike in back. I asked him to take me home, but he totally ignored the request and immediately headed up to Willamette Falls Hospital. I was in no shape to argue.

As it turned out, the ER at the hospital was being remodeled, so he had to let me out at a temporary entrance about 100’ from the intake area. He told me to wait while he parked the car, but I decided to just head in.

I had the feeling of some Civil War victim as I entered the reception area – alone, bleeding all over, limping, torn clothing and obviously showing signs of “discomfort” as I put my most stoic face on. The ER was totally packed – as is often the case on first nice days of spring when people tend to take advantage of it in sometimes reckless ways – but they took a look at me and sent me quickly to the triage nurse. She literally kicked a patient out of her office to do a quick assessment, and then announced, “We’re moving you to the head of the line.” I felt so honored.

I went back out to the waiting area for a short bit, and then for the first time looked at my left hand. The right side of it was bleeding from impact with the pavement, but, while it didn’t exactly hurt, something just wasn’t right about the left side of it. Sort of a tingly feeling through the haze of all the rest the agony I was in, but then I noticed it.

“Matt,” I said. “My hand is messed up. See how the knuckle is flat?”

“Not really, Dad.”

But I knew.

Soon I was back in the ER proper where several nurses and docs started in on me. They poked and prodded and sent me to X-ray three separate times. First for my chest, then the shoulder, and finally my neck. During this time I mentioned my left hand was not right, but they were so busy looking for internal injuries and whatnot, that they did not examine it. In fact, when the nurse came in to insert an IV for those wonderful mind-numbing, I-don’t-care-that-it-still-hurts-like-crap-anymore-drugs, she started putting it in the top of my left hand until I reminded her it didn’t feel right. She moved the insertion point up to my wrist.

But after an hour and a half of cleaning, examining, X-raying and drugging, they decided that nothing was broken and that I could be on my way with a splint, veins filled with opiates and anti-nausea solution, and a script for an industrial sized bottle of Vicodin.

It was later the next week that the radiologist report came back confirming what I already knew from experience.

Broken rib on the right side. It happened when I landed on my right arm. I know this because the last time I crashed on my bike and landed on my left arm I suffered nine hairline fractures on three separate ribs. Do not ask me why I crashed on my bike that time. Besides, that was 10 years ago. I hardly ever crash. This time it was only one rib fracture. Much better. Right.

On Monday morning I finally rose after a generally sleepless night, and decided that my left hand, now swollen on the back below the ring and little fingers to about the size of a golf ball, probably should be checked out. Hmmmmm….

It still didn’t hurt compared to the rest of my body, especially my right shoulder. For some reason I felt like I had run into a concrete wall with no padding at about 25 MPH, but something as abnormal-looking as my hand was is kinda hard to ignore. I was supposed to drive to Seattle that morning for an important meeting with a client, but considering I looked and felt like a Beruit bombing casualty I decided to forgo the trip. Especially since my arm was basically feeling like, and all had the functionality of, an oak limb tied to my shoulder.

So I made an appointment for the primary quack clinic to see me, knowing they would X-ray and confirm that it too was broken. Since I had suffered a broken knuckle on my right hand when I was 16 – do not ask me how – I knew they probably wouldn’t do much for it, but then again it did look pretty strange.

It was as the fog was clearing that morning that I realized that I hit the sign with my hand. Until that point I really didn’t understand why I went down so fast and hard. “Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!” was all I could think of. Slowly the realization came as to why my hand was swollen and my surgically repaired LEFT shoulder was feeling a dull pain (Yes, left shoulder. A similar operation as was done to the right had been done about five years ago. Do not ask me why my left shoulder needed surgery).

I hit the signpost! D’Oh!!!

In great agony, I drove one-broken handed (remember, it is the RIGHT side of my body that was really messed up) up to the clinic. Thank goodness for power steering. They X-rayed the hand, and the doc was in such a hurry with a Monday morning patient load, he looked briefly at the film before trying to tell me that it was just a massive contusion. I think he was observing the road rash on the right side of the hand and ignoring the other evidence.

But by the time I had returned home – no work for me that day – his nurse had already called with the “upon further review” report. She left a message saying the doc noticed I had broken the knuckle of my ring finger. Duh.

The radiologist report came back a couple days later and showed I had actually broken the knuckle below the little finger as well.

But when I called the office back to ask if I should be getting casted or such, the nurse told me to come back for a “baseball splint.” I did, met the doc in the hallway between him seeing patients, and he stated that, “It will probably be OK. But if it is still really swollen and sore in three or four weeks, let me know and I’ll refer you to a hand specialist.” Gee, thanks. They told me at least 8 weeks to heal bones in the hands and feet. I know that about the feet. Do not ask me how I know…

Epilogue:

Here it is, the 8-week anniversary of the crash. I will not bore you with the details of what it is like to come off of multiple injuries, except to say for those of you who remember, sorry, and for those of you who have never had to, I sure hope you don’t. The current assessment of the physical maladies is as follows:

Road rash: Essentially healed, though scarring remains at every point of impact.

Contusions: Healed nicely in the first couple of weeks. The green, purple and black fingers below the break included. The discoloration and swelling of the right and left shoulders is gone too.

Broken rib: It no longer hurts like crazy to cough or sneeze, (anybody who has had a rib injury knows of what I write here) and all and all feels pretty good unless something presses against it or I try to play racquetball.

Right side neck: Essentially OK, with moments of unexplainable sheer pain thrown in now and then for the heck of it. Still can’t hold a phone in the crimp of my neck.

Right shoulder: Hurts a lot. No sleeping on the right side. In fact, no sleeping in any position for more than a couple hours. Still very much aware during the day that it is connected to my body. But I did play RB last week for the first time. Not well. Here is the real ironic twist. I actually have more range of (slow) motion in that shoulder than before the wreck! It seems the impact must have knocked loose some more scar tissue. Much less expensive than the original surgery, but I still could not recommend it as an alternative. I am certain it will be months more before things are sorta normal again.

Head: No damage. I am absolutely convinced that had I not been wearing a helmet, this narrative would not be being written. I hit HARD. I was not aware of the condition of the helmet for several weeks, as my son had left it in the trunk of his car. Once I looked at it, I realized that it had done its job by crushing like an eggshell.

Left calf: For several days I did not even realize I was wounded there. That is where the sprocket dug in as the bike landed on me at the moment of impact. There are five teeth marks that became infected about a week later, but are finally healed. Thank goodness they gave me a tetanus shot at the ER.

Left hand: Feels OK, looks like Hell. This is the forever change in my body.



Where’s my knuckles?

Fortunately, none of the injuries were life-threatening in any way.

The bike came through unscathed, other than throwing the chain and the left brake pull. I took one for my bike!

Messages of this story:

1) WEAR YOUR HELMET
2) If you crash, and it feels bad, just go to the hospital. You’re gonna end up there anyway.
3) If it doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t. No matter what they try to tell you.
4) Stay off the sidewalk when riding a bike. I know, I know. Next time I will just jump off the curb.
5) It is not feasible for a 48-year-old non-athlete to perform a tuck and roll maneuver in ¼ of a second.
6) WEAR YOUR HELMET

Moral:

One of my sisters wrote me a lengthy email, suggesting that all of the physical activity I get comes with a price, and, given my history and age, that, maybe;

IT MUST HAVE BEEN A SIGN.

A sign to slow down a little?

Feeling pretty good today. I was just thinking of putting on my new Bell helmet and taking a ride.

LIFINO


ouch! Here's to a quick recovery and safe rides!!

Clipless pedal incidents = too many to list. :D

Most memorable was back in highschool. Class had just ended for the day and I was leaving the campus. The main entrance, where the bike racks were, sat about 10 feet below street grade level and about 100 feet back. Between the school and the street were several concrete staircases of varying depths and grades. On this particular occasion I guess I was feeling rather bold when I attempted to make it up about 8 vertical feet of stairs on my mtn. bike (average grade stairs). I lost momentum about half way up and started falling toward the rail disecting the path. I missed the rail with my hand and my descent continued, first toward the rail until my ear/face made contact with the rail (no helmet), and then downward to the bottom of the staircase. This one really hurt - like the pain that makes your stomach turn. Of course I couldn't show it because there were just way too many people around.

Other notables...

Nose wheelie over the handlebars (mtn. bike), with clipless pedals, downtown Moab during spring-break/annual Jeep Safari. There were many witnesses.

Parked car encounters: Twice when I was a kid. Both times on my silver and blue Schwinn Thrasher. One resulted in unconsciousness/short hospital stay with concussion. Bike ok, Truck ok. Second incident resulted in no bodily injury and only minor abrasions to the car involved (of course I rode away without telling anyone). There were no witnesses to either event.

I just got into roadbiking a couple months ago, so my resume is weak in this area. I suppose the most embarresing thing I have done recently is inadvertantly tossing my water bottle into traffic. I somehow managed to overshoot the water bottle cage from the outside, which sent the damn thing right out into the middle of the lane. I suppose it wouldn't have been that big of a deal, if not for the gentleman driving the first car in a string of cars that arrived at the scene. Instead of just straddling the bottle with his car as he drove by, he slowed down and stopped just behind the bottle. I was still coasting a bit, as I did not really want to draw attention to what I had just done. Now I was about fifty or sixty feet up the road. I stopped quickly, made eye contact with the driver tried to wave him passed. He just sat there, and signaled me to go ahead and grab the bottle. It was immediately obvious that he had no intention of moving until I had safely retrieved my water bottle from the road - even as traffic backed up behind him. We're talking about traffic on a 50mph road coming to a standstill in outside lane. :( I had no choice, but to get back in the pedals, flip a u-turn and ride directly back toward the cars, stop a few yards directly in front of this dude's car (and all the other cars), bend down and grab the freakin bottle and get out of the way. That was stupid, and believe me, I looked straight ahead until all the cars had passed. I'm working on a cleaner release now...

That's all for now.

1. Rode my father's way-too-big bicycle with my left leg stuck through the frame. Got good at it, actually.

2. Acted on a dare from my father riding next to me. "Hey," he said. "can you do this?" He crossed his arms, left hand on the right hood, right hand on the left hood. "Sure," I said, did it, and crashed immediately. The old man felt very, very bad about that.

i dropped my water bottle in my first race in the middle of the peloton, because i had never put my bottle away without looking down at my cage before. It was a circuit race and every lap the bottle was smack dab in the middle of the course and evreyone would yell "BOTTLE!!" Gawd, did I feel like a boob... :(

It happened when I was 12 years old. I use to ride my "home made" BMX everywhere. One day I decide to ride under the monkey bars so I could grab the bar and let go of my bike. You know the Starskie and Hutch(Cop of the month) thing. Well, I did it a few times until I decided to go alot faster. My hands slipped off the monkey bars and I landed flat on my back. I had the air knocked out of me so bad that I thought I was going to die. There I was, standing there with my mouth open wide and could not take a breath. To make matter worse, there was nobody there if I really got hurt bad.

I'm posting this one for a friend. He found out that caution tape gets that name for a reason. We were stopped at a traffic light about 3 cars back from the intersection with quite a few cars behind us. When the light turned we took off, me picking up speed more quickly as I usually do. When I cleared the intersection I passed a couple of constuction barrels on the right with caution tape strung between them where some cement work had been done earlier. I was keeping up with the car in front of me and was near the middle of the lane when I noticed the caution tape blowing toward the roadway. I cleared it no problem... I was about a 1/4 mile or so down the road when I realize Patrick isn't with me. I turn around and go back to the intersection.

Turns out that he was riding too far to the right in the lane and the caution tape blew out and grabbed him. He'd tried to deflect it out of the way with his hand but it had gotten caught on his brake hood. Came out of it with out a scratch but a little dirty after going over the handlebars. The rear wheel of the bike was out of true and rubbed the brakes on the ride home, the handlebars were out of alignment, and the brakes/shifters were good and scratched up.

1. Bike helmet backwards (don't ask)
2. boxers under bike shorts
3. Wrote a really really lame review on MTBR.com

This was the summer before my senior year in highschool. Was taking summer
classes and one afternoon while I was leaving from the dorm to go to class, my right
foot slipped off the pedal and got stuck in the front fork. I flew over the handle bar and
smashed into a parked van with 2 really cute looking girls as witnesses.

I'm on the ground going "oh my god oh my god.. somone take me to the hospital."
My friend rides up within seconds and I ask him to take me to the hospital. As I
stood up, I noticed I was not only uninjured, but there was not a scratch on me.
That's when my friend started imitating what I did.. and he goes "OWWWWW....
SOMEONE TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL... TO THE HOSPITAL!"

The girls grinned at me and walked away...

lets see. the most stupid thing ive ever done on a bike was when i was riding to school one day and as i was going down a hill about a mile form my house i was attempting to put on a reflector on the rear of th bike. unfortunatly for me i did not realize what hand i was doing this with and then procceded to look up and notice theirs a stop sign coming up very very soon. I thought no big deal ill just brake so i squeezed the brake not realizing which one i had my hand on and went straight over the handlebars at about 25 miles an hour. I had had my hand on the front brake... :D not only did i have a broken arm from this but if i had not been wearing my helmet i probally wouldnt be writing this right now.

This was the summer before my senior year in highschool. Was taking summer
classes and one afternoon while I was leaving from the dorm to go to class, my right
foot slipped off the pedal and got stuck in the front fork. I flew over the handle bar and
smashed into a parked van with 2 really cute looking girls as witnesses.

I'm on the ground going "oh my god oh my god.. somone take me to the hospital."
My friend rides up within seconds and I ask him to take me to the hospital. As I
stood up, I noticed I was not only uninjured, but there was not a scratch on me.
That's when my friend started imitating what I did.. and he goes "OWWWWW....
SOMEONE TAKE ME TO THE HOSPITAL... TO THE HOSPITAL!"

The girls grinned at me and walked away...


haha that part playing in my head was worth a good laugh, nice story


I fell again with my clip-in pedals at a stoplight. I had one foot in and felt fine but lost my balance and I went straight down. Luckily I unclipped and caught myself and the bike and just got a scratch on my leg from the bike. It was at a BUSY intersection though with plenty of cars everywhere, wow was I embarrassed.

Installed brand new rims, tires and inner tubes on my bike, not realizing I had to install rim tape first. The inner tubes took the 60psi okay, but they balloon into the spoke nipple access holes and get cut after a short period of riding. Which in my case was a mile away from home to get simultaneous two flat tires.

I wear a heel anti-static grounding strap for work and one day rode to a company picnic on the bike. Not wanting to walk around with the strap on, I put in my front wheel so I wouldn't lose it. After the picnic, I took off for home, and traveled one wheel revolution of distance and was thrown to the ground in front of everyone. My anti-static strap became an anti-theft device.

... just TODAY I ran into the back of a pickup truck.

There was this construction zone so traffic was going slow. I fell inline behind this big blue Ford F250 and before I knew it, the red brake light was on. I hit my brakes. Dangit... rear wheel locked up, front brake was squeezed REAL tight. And I just didn't get enough traction....

The driver was cool about it. He just asked me if I dented his truck. I told him no (I really didn't). And then he replies "nice one..." I didn't want to turn around and see the driver behind him... heh. Imagine what would be going through your mind if you saw some cyclist ram into the back of a moving car...