Rolling & Tumbling

 

The other day coming home from the Tummy Temple, I took a spill.

Nothing serious, no broken bones or blood, but it was an unexpected encounter with the street.

I am a very cautious rider giving way to the metal mobile machines but this day I was unaware.

It was a nice clear sunny day and it was my usual path, but faith had it I was in a difference conscience.

First, I was mailing my monthly bills but forgot to take the different path to the mailbox. Closer to my destination I realized my mistake and went on to climb the hill to the amusement of the county police who park there awaiting an emergency call. This is the closest method of near by gym work I cancelled.

So dropped the four envelopes into the big blue box and proceeded back to find some grocery to stuff my face.

Nothing eventful wandering the aisles and the day seemed very ordinary. Took off my mask, loaded my bags, put away the cart and checked the traffic before peddling the path home.

Every move was so routine that it could be put on autopilot.

As I came to my last zigzag through the back roads of the neighborhood I notice there was a car pulling up behind me. Normally I have two options. I pull over to the right and let them pass or get in the left lane with no other traffic coming my way.

Today I decided to use the second method.

As I was getting to my turn another car was coming from the opposite direction…in my lane. I figured I could turn soon enough for him to pass me, but he decided to turn on the same path.

Still there was plenty of space for my little two-wheeler and his metal mobile machine to accompany the pavement, but there was a new element in my calculations.

A white car came charging down in the lane I had hoped to be empty.

As my normal avoidance procedure kicked in, I swerved to the curb and planned to stopping and waiting out the traffic.

I reached out my left leg expecting to find the curb, but it was not there.

As any construction contractor will tell you, a roadway is sloped for water to run off to the curb. It makes sense but my foot didn’t hit the raised curb.

Instead I leaned to the left and kept going. It was like stepping into a hole. Once my foot touched the pavement it was too late.

By then the bike was sliding out from under me and the only option was to hit the ground. It is a special dance when your ride leaves you.

As the car passed, I gathered myself on the curb with my groceries rolling around on the street and my bike on top of me.

A nice man who had made the turn in front of me stopped and asked if I was OK? I appreciated his concern but waved him off more out of embarrassment than pain. I struggled to unhinge myself from the bike frame in search of erecting myself. The nice man in the car even asked if I needed assistance getting up.

Remember I’m not a spring chicken out here and getting up can sometimes become a struggle, so his request only reminded me of my situation.

I found the stop sign post next to me and could pull myself up from the wreckage. I acknowledge the drivers concerns and brushed myself off. There were no broken bones or blood so I waved him off and he appreciated I was not hurt. I was too.

Re-stuffing the bags with the daily purchase, I righted my pony and walked down the street to make sure all the bones were intact. A bit winded from the ordeal I found a spot on a curb to remount. The pony was as firm as always and peddled home as usual but what an adventure. Didn’t even break the mirror.

This was not the first ‘crash’ I’ve had but was the most avoidable except for my mental perceptions and reaction time. It gives you pause.

The next day it rained, so I didn’t ride, but the bruise on my leg reminded me of the event. A little sore and gimpy for a few days but I’ll work it off.

The strange thing with getting older is you remember those times that hurt you. It may not have been your fault but you paid the price.

The other interesting aspect of having ‘event’ is you remember it. You remember the place where you had the first kiss or that spot you thought you could reach but didn’t quite get there.

The same is with accidents. When you pass the place you wrecked, there is a rubbernecking moment no one else can understand.

I thought the next day about that spot on the street I’d traveled for so many years. What was different on that day? Should I avoid going there again? There is a whole psychological study on this phenomenon.

If you romantically break up with someone, would you want to see him or her again?

After a few days of hobbling around, it was time to get back to my ride.

The ride went well, a little bit sore, but all the parts worked and on the way home past the site of rolling and tumbling. There were no monuments to event. No one left flowers to memorize the event.

I passed the spot as if to conquer the memory and it was over.

Today I have a bruise on my leg but it is still working. I had a scrap on my elbow I didn’t notice but it will be a scar I can show to friends of my survival. These are just battle wounds of life.

The only real causality from that day was my cell phone.

It seems when I landed hard; I landed on the cell phone in my pocket and broke the screen.

I realize I need a communication device to order pizza or take robo calls, so this was a situation I had to resolve.

I limped over to the Verizon Wireless store that had sold me the phone a decade ago and showed them my problem. They went through the series of questions which I was more than obliged to answers until they asked me my PIN# for the phone.

I have a PIN# for my debit card, but don’t know one for my cell?

I use the telecommunication rarely. I normally don’t answer calls and let them go to voice mail. If it is important, I will call back. Most of the time the phone is turned off.

The stores solution to my conundrum was to go to another store?

Being a techie, I went online to the conglomerate Verizon to find a solution, but there I was stifled. Login and password didn’t match and again they requested a PIN# I didn’t know. I rifled through my paper files and came up empty. I requested online assistance but could not access without a PIN#.

Why is this so difficult?

I pay my monthly bills regularly by check and have had no problem with the service…. until now.

Solution: Go in and get another phone with a NEW number. Probably not the best work around but seems the only option.

What about the old account?

I’ve tried several trails to cancel the number but with little results. If I stop paying the bills, the account will stop.

Maybe I can call them on the NEW phone?

Is technology getting out-of-hand? What if your Wi-Fi crashes? How will you see the ‘Squid Game’? Those little photos of cousins and what someone ate last night will be unavailable?

I’ll heal from this tumble with the pavement and mark it up as just another marker of life. Next time I might not be so lucky.