Wednesday, April 12, 2006

The Story

Looks like a beautiful day for most of the country today. I would love to go for a ride, but I got things to do before going to Council Bluffs/Omaha tomorrow night with Tim, Jeff, and my new mechanic Margaret. Hey Margaret, I’m still having issues with my bottom bracket on the Gilmour, do you think you could look at it for me? It hasn’t been the same since that fateful day when Tim and I had our accident. If you haven’t heard the story of how Tim broke my wrist last summer, or if he told you without me present, then here’s the real story.

Tim and I were riding across the Stone Arch Bridge from Downtown Minneapolis toward Dinkytown.

When we came off the bridge, Tim said, “Go straight.” But if you go straight off the bridge, you end up in this industrial area and basically the parking lot/docks. So I went to take a left because I lived one block left off of the bridge. Tim kept yelling at me, “Go straight, go straight!” But I was thinking, “Why the crap would I want to go straight into this industrial mess when I can see my house right there to the left?” What ended up happening was Tim and I overcompensated our turns and crashed right into each other.

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