Tim was able to jump off his bike and was fine, but my handlebar got caught in his wheel, my leg got locked in between the two bikes, and I came crashing down sandwiched between them. Needless to say I was pissed. I did everything short of picking up my bike and throwing it at Tim. The funniest part about this was there was this guy sitting on a bench just feet from us, and instead of asking if I was ok, he seemed to ignore the incident out of fear of me!
Tim later explained that by straight he meant go straight across the street and take a left onto the sidewalk because the street was cobbles. We later had a discussion about improving bike communication, and we’ve gotten a lot better.
So we walked the block to my house and I was just going to lock the bike up outside, jump in the car, and go over to Tim’s house (we weren’t living together at the time). When I went to turn my key, my hand started shaking uncontrollably. That’s when I took a good look at my body and realized how beat up I was.
We went over to Tim’s parents’ house where Bill took a good look at me and said I needed to go to the hospital. But thanks to the great and progressive healthcare system of these good ol’ United States, I didn’t have health insurance and refused to go. I sucked it up, but later that night noticed the strange perfectly round bruises that the accident left all over my body. Yet again, it looked like Tim had beaten the crap out of me. Like I said, I have a way of getting hurt a lot.
Later that summer when I went to the Dr. for something routine, I asked him to take a few x-rays of my wrist. You could see in the x-ray where the broken bone was almost finished healing itself, but the nerve damage was tremendous (not on the x-ray!) So I still have issues with the wrist.
If you ever see me riding with a wrist brace on, you now know why.
I know Bill, you don’t even have to say it, I should have listened to you. Why are parents always right?
And if you hear anything different from Tim, he’s wrong. Of course.