Tuesday, September 25, 2007
DUTCH COURAGE........
Friday was a mile stone in my road to recovery.
Two actually.
I finally managed to ride a bicycle!!!!!
I'd bought one back in November to strengthen my legs and build up some semblance of fitness, but firstly wasn't allowed to use it according to my rehab doctor because of the danger of falling off and damaging something.
I adhered to this advice for some time and when the day came that I was allowed to ride, I found I was too shit scared to get on the damned thing.
There is a bike path near my house, but it requires riding along some roads to get to.
Having a clear understanding of what motorised transportation can do to a rider kind of put me off.
The bike path is a shared walkway with all sorts of people / children / dogs on it.
The lack of strength and control in my right leg conjured up all sorts of images of making emergency stops because someone's unleashed dog ran out, then putting down the right leg, before becoming horizontally intimate with the earth with a little help from our friend gravity, resulting in a return trip to hospital.
Well all that's changed now.
After a night at 'a place that sells good beer' a bunch of us decided to go back to the Casa del Pollo Polvoriento for some vinyl playing and more beer.
The girls and Gino went back in a cab and I decided to keep Keli company as he walked his bike back.
Keli, his bike and I have a history.
Before the crash there was many a time when we would take the bike home after a night at the 'the place that sells bad beer' taking turns as passenger or rider.
I had a 100% crash rate and Keli's was a little better, so the next day we would wake up sporting some bruises and abrasions.
They were never serious crashes, just the type that would make you laugh if you saw one passing by.
Hitting a rubbish bin here, just plain falling over there, etc. we'd go down easier than a drunk poof on ecstasy in a gay nightclub toilet.
So, back to Friday night.
Keli in his drunken state suggested we renew the tradition and that I jump on the back of his bike.
I, in a moment of sheer genius and clarity suggested HE jump on the back and I do the riding.
So there we were, caution to the wind, Keli holding the bike upright as I attempted to mount the thing.
It took a couple of tilts at it, but eventually I found myself atop the well abused machine with Keli on the back parcel rack.
All went well really, my legs were used to the cycling motion from physio exercises and the act of keeping the bike upright, on the straight and narrow seemed to be going ok.
It all came back to me just like the proverbial 'riding a bike'.
We took a little side street with only one car on it and then the footpath along a busy main street.
The footpath was probably more of a challenge to ride than the flat road, but hey NO CARS!!!
At one point we were approaching an Italian club with a half dozen pot bellied middle aged man congregating at the entrance.
Realising a stop at this moment could be ugly I decided to give them some warning of our impending fly by, throw caution to the wind ( again ) and just keep on pedalling.
Not being able to find the bell I started making beep beep noises like the Road Runner from the cartoon and was soon joined by Keli once he realised I had absolutely no intention of stopping.
The beep beeps became gradually louder and more frantic as we got closer but thankfully the middle aged pot bellied Italian men stepped aside in that nonchalant manner that can only be done if you're a middle aged pot bellied Italian.
Not once did they stop they're conversation or drinking / smoking, just watched us pass by with the look of indifferent curiosity usually reserved for one legged seagulls flying by.
We made it!!!!
And not one crash!!!
Pretty stoked I managed to face my bicycle demon as well as finally breaking my two up pissy riding crash record.
Thank goodness for beer.........
.
Two actually.
I finally managed to ride a bicycle!!!!!
I'd bought one back in November to strengthen my legs and build up some semblance of fitness, but firstly wasn't allowed to use it according to my rehab doctor because of the danger of falling off and damaging something.
I adhered to this advice for some time and when the day came that I was allowed to ride, I found I was too shit scared to get on the damned thing.
There is a bike path near my house, but it requires riding along some roads to get to.
Having a clear understanding of what motorised transportation can do to a rider kind of put me off.
The bike path is a shared walkway with all sorts of people / children / dogs on it.
The lack of strength and control in my right leg conjured up all sorts of images of making emergency stops because someone's unleashed dog ran out, then putting down the right leg, before becoming horizontally intimate with the earth with a little help from our friend gravity, resulting in a return trip to hospital.
Well all that's changed now.
After a night at 'a place that sells good beer' a bunch of us decided to go back to the Casa del Pollo Polvoriento for some vinyl playing and more beer.
The girls and Gino went back in a cab and I decided to keep Keli company as he walked his bike back.
Keli, his bike and I have a history.
Before the crash there was many a time when we would take the bike home after a night at the 'the place that sells bad beer' taking turns as passenger or rider.
I had a 100% crash rate and Keli's was a little better, so the next day we would wake up sporting some bruises and abrasions.
They were never serious crashes, just the type that would make you laugh if you saw one passing by.
Hitting a rubbish bin here, just plain falling over there, etc. we'd go down easier than a drunk poof on ecstasy in a gay nightclub toilet.
So, back to Friday night.
Keli in his drunken state suggested we renew the tradition and that I jump on the back of his bike.
I, in a moment of sheer genius and clarity suggested HE jump on the back and I do the riding.
So there we were, caution to the wind, Keli holding the bike upright as I attempted to mount the thing.
It took a couple of tilts at it, but eventually I found myself atop the well abused machine with Keli on the back parcel rack.
All went well really, my legs were used to the cycling motion from physio exercises and the act of keeping the bike upright, on the straight and narrow seemed to be going ok.
It all came back to me just like the proverbial 'riding a bike'.
We took a little side street with only one car on it and then the footpath along a busy main street.
The footpath was probably more of a challenge to ride than the flat road, but hey NO CARS!!!
At one point we were approaching an Italian club with a half dozen pot bellied middle aged man congregating at the entrance.
Realising a stop at this moment could be ugly I decided to give them some warning of our impending fly by, throw caution to the wind ( again ) and just keep on pedalling.
Not being able to find the bell I started making beep beep noises like the Road Runner from the cartoon and was soon joined by Keli once he realised I had absolutely no intention of stopping.
The beep beeps became gradually louder and more frantic as we got closer but thankfully the middle aged pot bellied Italian men stepped aside in that nonchalant manner that can only be done if you're a middle aged pot bellied Italian.
Not once did they stop they're conversation or drinking / smoking, just watched us pass by with the look of indifferent curiosity usually reserved for one legged seagulls flying by.
We made it!!!!
And not one crash!!!
Pretty stoked I managed to face my bicycle demon as well as finally breaking my two up pissy riding crash record.
Thank goodness for beer.........
.
