Retiring Old Blue

I wiped out. On K’rd, 7.30 am. It was raining, the road was slippery, I was being absent-minded…

I was wearing a lovely a-line skirt with brown ribbed tights and my cute Melbourne boots but there was nothing cute about landing flat like a belly-flop off a dive board, on hard tarmac.

I was feeling a little self-righteous after planting myself in front of this dork in a BMW who had stopped over the bike bay. I was taking great pleasure at annoying him enough that he tooted at me, “Ha!” I thought, “That’ll teach you!”… Then splat! As I skidded, losing control of the handlebars. The Shame. The beamer had stopped right next to me at the following lights. I cringed and avoided looking their way. Oh! the unfairness of it all! Then I started to hurt and realised there was a 3 tonne bus waiting patiently behind my prone body. So with my tail between my legs, I extracted myself as quickly as possible from bike and road and hobbled, crying furiously, to the footpath. A nice lady pedestrian rushed over to check if I was ok and a kind old gentleman helped me wrench my front wheel back in place. It had turned 90 degrees. He suggested I tighten the bold. I agreed. He carried on. The traffic moved on. I stood still trying to feel normal again.

“Old Blue” I said, “you’re going to the workshop.”. Bald tires, broken back pedal break, weak front break, rusty old mutt.

But I can’t blame her. After a quick injury check (grazed hands, gnarly bruises, and bruised pride) I make a couple of mental notes:

A. Bad weather = concentrate on terrain
B. If your breaks are crap, you’re screwed
C. NEVER be cocky around cars

Seeya and ride safely.