(no subject)
Vacation was rather uneventful, except one of the boy's aunts puked on my car. It needed to be washed anyhow, so no big deal.
We did ride quite a bit after we got back to the cities until Saturday afternoon. Our ride Saturday was cut short, we had a mile walk back to the lot.
Yep, I went over the bars again. This time I landed, on my chest, on a bunch of rocks. Somehow, I managed to get road rash about 270 degrees around my right arm along with the big gaping hole. Verlon used one of my socks to apply direct pressure and stop the bleeding. It was good for 3 stitches, a tetnus shot, a week of Cephalexin, and a hand full of Vicodin. I left a bunch of blood on the trail.
The best part was the as soon as we got back to the parking lot from the trail, I had a cold beer in my hand in about .3 seconds. It was even opened for me. No idea who gave it to me, but I thank them very much. Another guy there used one of our water bottles to flush rocks out of my arm. After that we headed off to the ER, stopping on the way for Cigarettes and a gas station sandwich.
On our way to the trail that day, Verlon and I got into an argument about his GPS. He is in love with his GPS, I am not a fan of it. I learned to drive here without one and do just fine. We actually drove about 15 minutes without speaking because of that stupid GPS. On our way to the ER, I did finally admit that the GPS was OK. It was the only way that we knew how to get to an ER. He won... this round.
Last night, Verlon went on a group ride. I met up with him and the other bikers at a bar after the ride. I was almost a celebrity... nearly everyone there had either heard about it or saw the pictures on the MORC forums. Not sure that I am proud of that.
I guess that moral of the story is that Mountain Bikers are damn cool.
We did ride quite a bit after we got back to the cities until Saturday afternoon. Our ride Saturday was cut short, we had a mile walk back to the lot.
Yep, I went over the bars again. This time I landed, on my chest, on a bunch of rocks. Somehow, I managed to get road rash about 270 degrees around my right arm along with the big gaping hole. Verlon used one of my socks to apply direct pressure and stop the bleeding. It was good for 3 stitches, a tetnus shot, a week of Cephalexin, and a hand full of Vicodin. I left a bunch of blood on the trail.
The best part was the as soon as we got back to the parking lot from the trail, I had a cold beer in my hand in about .3 seconds. It was even opened for me. No idea who gave it to me, but I thank them very much. Another guy there used one of our water bottles to flush rocks out of my arm. After that we headed off to the ER, stopping on the way for Cigarettes and a gas station sandwich.
On our way to the trail that day, Verlon and I got into an argument about his GPS. He is in love with his GPS, I am not a fan of it. I learned to drive here without one and do just fine. We actually drove about 15 minutes without speaking because of that stupid GPS. On our way to the ER, I did finally admit that the GPS was OK. It was the only way that we knew how to get to an ER. He won... this round.
Last night, Verlon went on a group ride. I met up with him and the other bikers at a bar after the ride. I was almost a celebrity... nearly everyone there had either heard about it or saw the pictures on the MORC forums. Not sure that I am proud of that.
I guess that moral of the story is that Mountain Bikers are damn cool.