My helmet, a cave man, and a broken shifter.

My Helmet

My Face A cave man

My shifter

Oh, my brake.

And my bike.

How did this all happen?
Well, first of all, I decided to race my bike and needless to say, it comes with the territory.
Secondly, I sometimes ride a bit fast, and on this occasion I rode casually past some riders into a corner at 39.7 mph. I was chasing the back end of a break away group. The corner had a radius that decreases as it almost doubled back on itself........Nothing new, but it was right before we tied into another road and there just happened to be a large white truck shining in my face distracting my eyes from the corner. I have to say that I have no mental image of the actual path the road took which means I never had a chance to turn my head and look. Contaminated with some sort of pixie dust, my eyes directed their full attention on the truck. The gaze was powerful. It was as if I had encountered the most beautiful naked woman glistening in all her nakedness. Speeding under the influence, I commenced to launch off the road Jan Ullrich style. Luckily I hit a rock the size of a 40lb dog and face planted digging a trench into the dirt before I hit the gleaming goddess.....uh truck.

That was it....pretty standard stuff.

One of my favorite things about bike racing or just bicycle riding in general is that it allows me to let go of certain perceptions of society that I allow to blind and numb me. The tepid, convenient, and comfortable illusions of society just fade away. Instinct takes over. The senses scream mutiny at the illusions and I'm planted right in the middle of life blooming around me.
Sure there are other ways, but at this point in time, while my body is still a tool, this is mine.

For this reason, I don't mind that my face is smashed up and my ribs are fucked. Or that my left pointer finger looks like a German sausage used as a dart jammed repeatedly into a dartboard with sheer determination that for obvious reasons failed.

I am, however, really pissed that my faithful, lucky, hand made bicycle, a made only for me Pegoretti....is pretty much ruined for life. I can't just go buy another one.....Its fucked.

I'm also pissed that I'm not racing my bike today, tomorrow, and the next day. Nope, I'm sitting here in pain. Every movement is like somebody is jamming a shredded metal coat hanger into my lungs.....and all I can do for some sick reason is to laugh at it. Then it hurts more...fuck! All the while my teammates are out racing and I can't join in the fun and help them out. So I sit here and say....."you fucking idiot" to myself when I know fair well that I would'nt do anything differently next time. That's just the way I ride my bike and I don't race to practice being conservative. I do that every other day of the week. Maybe this makes me
"not so smart"........maybe next time I'll ride an entire lap before I follow my gut...........Maybe a little balance is what I need. Maybe it just keeps the fire stoked. Have to wait and see.

Better luck next time.