Sometimes you are pretty sure that someday, something bad is going to happen at a particularly dangerous part of a regular riding route. Yesterday was the day for me. In So Ill many of our obstacles have four legs, no vaccinations, full fecundity, and a run down trailer in back of their “lawn.” My favorite ride is the Hickory Ridge wine trail, which concludes with a trip down Dutch Ridge, on what the old locals used to call Warrior Hill (real indigenous history). We tend to refer to the Southern part as Goat Hill. We’d rename it Dog Hill, except that might cause confusion with the hill with the pack of wild dobermans.
Goat Hill charts 19% on Big Dale’s Garmin, and it is a screaming descent if you open it up. Yesterday, we rendevouxed at club Jackoff with the Chief, Molteni, and Dave. We were running a tad late, so we stoked the bunny just a tad, and railed down Goat Hill as if we’d never seen a pack of pit mongrels waiting for us at trailer central. We were going 44mph when Chief and Dave flew past the unchained mutt, and it stormed into the road right in front of me. I hit it square, with predictable results. I was surprised that Molteni and Dale didn’t hit me as I skidded on the cinder-covered chip and seal.
Of course, since it was a nice day, i was wearing brand new 2008 Team Mack bibs and Jersey, and some really cool new Castelli knee warmers…LAS Helmet, all trashed.
At least I was on the old Blue Gunnar with the steel fork! It had cosmetic damage and a flat, which the guys fixed while I tried to recover. I rode home with difficulty. I probably should have gone to the hospital last night, but I didn’t want to sit around. Today I went in for the five hour hospital visit to confirm muliple fractures, broken wrist, and a fractured hip. I’ll see about surgery tomorrow!
Wow! I can be like Gary and Steve! Nah, I’d have to be a lot worse off. But I’m out past Hillsboro…I may take up dog extermination as a hobby, since I’ll be off the bike for a few weeks…