I finally got my bike fixed the other day. It wasn't terribly expensive. There were a lot of things that needed fixing. And now, fixed. It was a fantastic feeling, riding it again. Such elegant machines. Such graceful transportation. It's a fluid exercise, really. You move and it answers, moves with you. Complementary elements. Riding a bike is a lot like dancing.
That would be me being clever.
It snowed the other day. There was ice, too, I guess. So the city put gravel out on the roads to help college students drive poorly. And so, since it's not icy anymore, the roads are covered in loose gravel. And so, I crashed my bike. I hit the patch of loose gravel at a very manageable speed and my tires slid out from under me.
There's still some gravel and such in my palms that I can't quite get out.
I had to get John's help with my knee. This picture really makes it look not that bad at all, but there was a surprising amount of dirt and gravel and tar in it. I'm only mildly afraid of admitting I wasn't ballsy enough to sterilize it myself. It just hurt too bad.
The worst part of the whole thing is that my favorite jeans are bloody and torn. Which is also sort of the best thing, I think. That's character.
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