On Friday afternoon, I was doing what I’d been doing all week.. A nice leisurely ride on my pretty little bike, Rita (Short for “Motorita”, which is spanish for “Little Motorcycle [female]).
It was a day like any other, the sun shining up above and the cool wind brushing up against my face as I rode down highway 75.
It was there that suddenly and without warning, a patch of gravel mysteriously emerged. Going against my many miles of training, my instinct took over, leading to a horrible mistake.. Pressing the front brake.
The next few seconds, a blur, as Rita slid out and to the left from under me, allowing physics to propel me towards a quick reminder of the frailty of the human body.
Several rolls and bumps later, I stood victorious, and hurried back to sit by my poor Rita’s side. She had suffered a devastating fall, and I was lucky if I could ever be with her again.
A passer-by, witnessing the event, parked diagonally on the highway to block traffic. He asked if I needed help, but adrenaline and confusion lead me to believe all was well. He knew better, and proceeded to help me and Rita to a safer spot in the breakdown lane. Once assured that we were fine, he was off to most likely save the world.
After several minutes, I convinced myself to make the trek home. Slowly but surely, Rita completed her task.
Feeling hungry, I called a friend for dinner.. Upon arriving and seeing my wounds, the nurse in her took over and she proceeded to clean and bandage me.
Bla bla bla
I went to the ER and I have a fractured elbow and I bashed up my left wrist, you know.. The bad one.
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