$\"Right$ <\/a>

Right near the Yonge and Summerhill Liquor Store. Shots please!<\/p><\/div>\n

I was biking through the only “real” place where the presence of a bike is a gray area: a path through a city park. Not quite a sidewalk, certainly not a bike path. Right by the entrance to the park, two 8yr old girls decided to dart out in front of me, thankfully at a distance that allowed me to stop.<\/p>\n

But unfortunately that distance included a slight downward grade. The following 4 things happened within a matter of seconds: I was<\/p>\n

braking<\/li>\n

reaching for my bell to warn the kids<\/li>\n

trying to shout something<\/li>\n

fighting the left turn of the handlebars as the wheel fought the downgrade<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n
I found myself going over the handlebars.<\/p>\n
Then time slowed down, as it does, when you have an accident. Like the last violent punch in Batman Arkham Asylum<\/a>, I could see myself start the 215lb launch over my K2 hybrid bike. Curiously enough, I could imagine the look on my face as I went down: one of utter dissapointment. Suddenly I was worried I was going to hit one of the kids. Nope. They’re a good distance, but their eyes look like dinner plates. Then I felt really relieved that I was falling on a sidewalk and not the road.<\/p>\n
Then the cement hit me.<\/p>\n
The back end of the bike came up over me but didn’t crest my body. I instinctively (or so I will brag for the rest of my life) tucked into a perfect Aikido roll<\/a> and minimized the damage done to my person: a scraped right pinky knuckle and a gash on my elbow. As the bike and I stopped our downward fall, forward roll, I immediately put my right slip-on dress shoe back on.<\/p>\n
Yeah, instead of anger, pain or concern, I was worried about my shoe.<\/p>\n
Standing and surveying the damage done to my bike, a woman jogger asked, “Are you ok?”<\/p>\n
“Yes thanks,” I say. I think I’m in shock. I’m starting to pick up the little tiny plastic bits from my gear changer display from my handle bar. I think, “Why the hell am I picking this stuff up?”<\/p>\n
“I think you’re in shock,” she says, “Do you have a cell phone? I can call an ambulance.”<\/p>\n
Holy shit is there a bone sticking out somewhere?<\/p>\n
Nope.<\/p>\n
“I’m… I’m OK. I’m more embarrassed<\/em>.”<\/p>\n
“I understand,” she says taking the hint to minimize the moment. As she puts on her headphones: “I ran face first into a wall once.”<\/p>\n
As I turn and test the gears (thankfully only cosmetic damage to the bike), I hear what I assume is a Filipino minder yelling at the girls. I assume this because I was riding through one of Toronto’s most expensive neighbourhoods, Rosedale, and no parent in their right mind up there would take their kids to a park right after rush hour.<\/p>\n
Without a word, I get back onto my bike and ride off.<\/p>\n
I assure you, I have gone through the gambit of emotions, including bitching out the little girls in an internal shouting tirade <\/em><\/strong>that results in a steady stream of tears and emotional scars for life. <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n
Not really.<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n
Now, my chest hurts. I think I’ve bruised an ovary. I’ll most likely take pictures of my damage tomorrow for greater visual impact.<\/p>\n
hahahah… impact! I kill me!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Tonight, I had my first bike accident in the city of Toronto. I’m OK thanks, just major road rash and a bruised rib. I was biking through the only “real” place where the presence of a bike is a gray area: a path through a city park. Not quite a sidewalk, certainly not a bike […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":430,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"spay_email":"","jetpack_publicize_message":""},"categories":[3,439],"tags":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p9WjY-1e1","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4713"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/430"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4713"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4713\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4713"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4713"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.deadrobot.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4713"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}