Two Wheel Blogs

As we ride our bikes, one thing is bound to happen to each of us over the years; we crash, wreck, take a dive, go end-over-end, make a face plant or we don’t release from the pedals fast enough wearing those dreaded shoes of death. I read somewhere that on average it takes a rider about 4,000 miles to have one that requires professional medical treatment. We all have the minor boo-boos that we just slap on a bandage and maybe it leaves enough of a scar for you wear as a badge of honor. You know, a cyclist’s “fish tale”, as it were.
That being said, my main riding buddy, Howard, had really beaten the odds until his big one late last year. You see, he was well on his way to another 18,000 mile year when he lost a battle with a truck out on a solo road ride. The driver was coming towards Howard on Ellisboro Road, when the truck starts to turn into his driveway across Howard’s path he suddenly and inexplicably stops. Howard had his head buried concentrating on his speed (like he needs to go any faster) when he noticed he was no longer attached to his bicycle.
After an ambulance ride to the hospital, he was pronounced bruised and a little battered, but nothing was broken, fortunately. Couldn’t say the same for the Trek Madone, it was a total loss. Amazingly the front wheel was fine but the fork was sheered completely off at the top. He missed quite a few rides but still ended the year with over 17,000 miles and well up in the top ten worldwide on bikejournal.com.
I had to ask the other day if his wreck was anything like the “bad one” I’d had a few years earlier racing at Ace Speedway when two riders in front of me went down and as I went up the track to avoid them, one of them rolled out in front of me and I ran over his arm (I can still hear the scream from that) and went flying into the air with my butt going over my head.
In other words, I had that “Oh s*#t” moment when our brains seem to compute a million thoughts in mere milliseconds. That being said, I asked Howard if he’d had the “Oh s*#t” moment on his crash and he said he didn’t. That may have contributed to the fact he didn’t break anything since he never had time to brace himself before impact. He just went from one reality into another.
I guess this illustrates that each wreck can be unique but I also think that a lot of us have crashes that fall in one category or the other. With Howard, he’s just riding along minding his own business and next thing he knows he’s on board an ambulance headed to the emergency room.
My personal “Oh s*#t” moment went sort of like this:
(Wreck happens in front of me and I take evasive action to no avail. Brain kicks in as I’m flying through the air.) “This could end badly” “what were those guys doing?” “I went the only way I could go” “why do I do this to myself?” “I wonder what I’ll have for supper tonight.” “Dear God help me” “this can’t be happening I have a business to run” “For each action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” “e=mc2” “pi r2” “pie are round, cornbread are square” “not too much blood please” “look, I’m flying” “I hope the bike doesn’t get banged up too badly” “wonder if this looks cool from the fans perspective” “yes I have insurance” “no my deductible hasn’t been met….yet”. WHAM! CRACK! “Ohhhhhh”.
A rider stops, which I discover later is an OB/GYN at Duke University Medical Center and says, “You have a broken collar bone and you’re going into shock”. That’s just great!
I’m helped up and miraculously my DeRosa shows not a scratch, only a very slight bending of the left side of the handlebar. As I walk through the infield towards the front straight grandstands, I notice that something isn’t quite right. An ambulance ride to the emergency room reveals a punctured lung as well so I stay overnight for observation to see if it comes back up, which it did and I was released shortly after lunch the next day.
My point here is that only with the “Oh s*#t” moment can one get to experience this rapid thought process. It’s as if time becomes warped in a sense, you feel that everything is going in slow motion. If only it were, then it might not hurt as much.
Thanks for listening to my ramblings and my the road rise to meet you.