Reality check

Reality check

Was sitting at work today, the Cannodale leaning against the cube wall, when I got a sad call from a friend. Turns out his father passed away this weekend. He’d been found lying in the middle of the road with his bike. Maybe he’d had a stroke, or perhaps had fallen and hadn’t been able to protect himself. Either way, he never recovered.

It really hit me later, as I put on my bike clothing for the ride home, that this is a dangerous pastime. Even with helmets, gloves, all that, there is still a risk. Orlando is one of the worst cities in the country to ride in (we mulch cyclists here). Discounting cars, biking can be risky. I remember hitting the pavement once and feeling my ribcage bend. And there was this time earlier this year where the bike slid out from under me and I ripped up big patches of skin on my left shin. I’ve had my share.

So I stood out on the loading dock in my bike togs in the failing afternoon light, thinking about it all.

Matador, indeed.

My ride home was very somber and very, very cautious.