Darwin Award Entries

A stunningly beautiful day for a ride in the Prescott National Forest.  Cool but not cold.  Calm shadows of the pines.  Brilliant sun on the mountain side.  Breathtaking cliffside vistas. 

Time to review all the reasons I should be dead by now. 

Morbid musing notwithstanding, a parade of near fatal cycling disasters passed before my (imagination's) eyes today.

The Spectacular: 

On my standard bike.  Slowing from 25 mph to make a sharp right turn.  Front wheel meets a slick as ice sewer cover.  Brakes seize up the front wheel.  Front wheel reaches the concrete road surface after sliding across the sewer cover.  Me and the bike `pivot' at point of wheel-road recontact.  360 degree endover. 

I come down on my left foot, calf, buttocks, arm and shoulder.  I take the concrete full-on, the back of my head hitting the road like a whiplash. 

Motion stops.  I am frozen in place.  I realize I'm conscious.  I do a mental checklist of parts and functions.  ...  Nothing.  No problems.  No pain.  No blood.  No broken parts. 

Not even my head?! 

Nope.  The helmet absorbed the full impact.  The plastic cover and Styrofoam helmet had a thin crack at the point of contact.  But for the helmet I would today be dead or a vegetable.  (Maybe I am a vegetable.  Twenty years in a coma.)

The Embarrassing:

First time I wore cleats with clipless pedals.  I came to a busy 6 corner intersection.  I had the red.  I stopped.  And fell over.  About 300 people present.  I'm CERTAIN that they all saw me, quietly laughed and considered me an idiot.  CERTAIN!

The Bloody:

I was descending a mountain switchback with a posted speed limit of 20 mph.  I was doing 35 mph.  I slid out.  Ten yards of road surface mixed with road shoulder dirt and gravel.  Left glute skin shaved off raw.  Various elbows, arms, shoulders, equally denuded to the muscle.  Somehow my right hand got into the mix and I now have three knuckles that look mildly Frankenstein-ish. 

The car behind me stops to offer assistance.  Lady gets out.  I'm standing, bloody but unbowed.  She offers help and I ask her to call my wife to come get me.  Neither of us can really communicate because of the frenzy.  She hands me her cellphone.  I call my wife to come get me.  I hand her back the cellphone, dripping with blood. 

Worst part is ... I feel I was thoughtless in not wiping off the blood on the cellphone. 

You?