Mags took a digger last week. It was kind of my fault.
She was riding to the grocery store. We have a bike dedicated exclusively to grocery shopping. We affectionately call it The Grocery Bike. It doesn’t deserve any more creativity than that. It’s an old Gitane with a step-through frame, a rear view mirror, horn, lights and fenders. It’s also got two huge wire baskets mounted on either side of the back wheel. I paid more for the baskets than I did for the bike.
We’ve had this bike for three or four years now, and the handgrips have always been loose. I guess I had just gotten used to them, and the bike isn’t really suited for high speeds, tight turns and bumpy roads, so the loose grips had never caused me any problems. I assumed Mags had gotten used to them too.
Well, she hadn’t. The left grip slipped off on her way to the store. She was still holding the grip in her hand when she landed. It’s a good thing she wasn’t on her way from the store, otherwise she’d be crying over spilled milk. Instead she’s crying about the softball-size shiner on her left leg where the end of the handlebar jabbed into her. She’s a trooper though, and finished her shopping errand even thought she walked with a limp for three days afterward.
I'm not used to role reversals like this. Usually I'm the one who gets injured and Mags has to take care of me. This time she's the one limping around the house and I'm laughing at her. Mags doesn't think it's very funny, but I have assured her that I have total sympathy for her right now. It's not often I can say that, that I have total sympathy for someone, but in this case I know exactly how she feels.
I may be laughing, but I am still a responsible husband. I found the can of Aqua Net that the old lady who sold us our house had left for us, and sprayed the inside of both hand grips that evening. When hairspray dries it holds like glue. It’s a five second fix that I should have done three years ago.
Only that it didn’t fix anything. Today I was riding The Grocery Bike to get some soup. I was making a left turn into the parking lot when the same thing happened to me. I was lucky. I didn’t go down and somehow I managed to get the grip back on the bar without missing a stroke. A guy walking by saw the whole thing. He held his thumb and forefinger close together and said “That was really close. A little bit of duct tape ought to take care of that.”
Has duct tape replaced hair spray as the handgrip adhesive of choice? and is this what I get for laughing at Mags' pain?
So, Chad has it mostly right-- I did wreck because the grip slipped off but I didn't land with it still in my hand. This is is the sequence of events: 1) grip slips off 2) exposed end of handlebars swivels towards me 3) I'm suddenly lying on the lawn of somebody's house 4) I realize if I'm ever going to get off this lawn I'll have to get myself up 5)slowly stand up 6)feel naseous 7)I see the grip lying on the lawn with other stuff from the basket. Something hurts but only later do I piece together that the exposed metal handlebar has jammed into my thigh, ripped my pants and left me hobbling like a 95 year old.
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