bike journal crash report 2

at this point i can’t seem to tell if my left upper thigh is numb from bruising or ice. it was a beautiful ride, a beautiful dawn, and it all ended on the concrete. i had warning. two slight slips of the chain and i thought that’s odd. i wonder if this is that problem i took the bike in for coming back or if it is and i’m not sure i got much further than that when the chain locked up and i flew over the handlebars to pivot into the concrete with the bike magically both under and on top of me.

i’m always impressed by the way violence stupifies the mind. it’s one of those experiences that can always feel new, no matter how many times it happens. although there is getting used to going through the process, of course. but that first splash of pain and realignment of the horizontal plane, wow. it can shake your understanding away in a second flat. those moments after the wreck that you see yourself doing things in slow motion kind of style unattached to the forward movement of your mind mechanism. just everything happening on its own. you, in some faraway seat watching it all go down. your view becomes a movie screen, your eyes become a windshield. when i had my head on collision in the Subaru in 1995, it was my moaning that really surprised me. it sounded like someone else moaning. it took me a few moments to realize it was me. and letting myself down off of the ceiling by unsnapping my seatbelt was an automatic thing, too. but this was nothing like that of course. this bike spill. except in the sense of how you feel very confused for a moment and in there is a small brushstroke of sadness…as if someone left you out of discussions for a moment. what the hell happened, what just happened to my world? why is my body sending all these signals. whats wrong with my body? where is it? is everything safe? am i still in the same arrangement i’m used to being in? and it seemed i was because i could move okay and as i stood up off the ground, i looked first at my lens, my camera lens. i’m glad i had my cheapo wide angle adapter on. it took the brunt. but of course the interlocking mount is the thing to worry about next. ugh. legs felt like someone hit them with hammers. same thing. metal bars of the bike and i had been moving pretty fast. i felt stupid and slow and wondered if anyone was looking out their window as i moved around in the dim light checking out my bike. damn wheel was mashed against the brake. wouldnt turn. what was wrong? unlocked wheel and then it slid into place. bike seemed okay.

i got back on, rode home. that saying about getting back on the horse after you fall came to mind. i laughed to myself. no notable bravery here. just no other way to get back home.

beginning to wonder about the spirit of my bike. what was its life like before its previous owner sold it to the shop? this is incident two marked with intensity and such violent energy. …and, at the same time my bike brings me a greater number of moments filled with beauty and deep satisfaction. hey, it’s not my bike, i guess! asi es la vida.