Kathy advises that John Crandall is being transferred to a rehab unit today. Boy, the medicos sure don’t let you lounge around in the sack anymore, do they? You could be a disembodied head in a glass jar after a sneak attack by killer robots and they’d sic’ the physical therapists on you after 24 hours of bed rest. “Come on, pal, up and at ’em, you’ll never get any better just floating around in that jar. OK, deep breath — now drop and give me twenty.”
Month: June 2009
Let’s play ‘I can top that’
OK, seeing as we have a man in the hospital following one of the nastiest crashes I’ve ever heard about, let’s poll the readership here: What was your worst crash involving a bicycle and a motor vehicle?
I’ve had a ton of close calls, but the only real O’Grady-auto impact of my illustrious cycling career occurred nearly 20 years ago as I was doing a sprint workout on the narrow bit of Bishop’s Lodge Road through Tesuque, north of Santa Fe.
A woman driving a Chevy Blazer passed me, then pulled onto the right-hand shoulder and executed a lazy U-turn right in front of me — just as I was winding out a slightly downhill sprint, doing about 35 mph. The damn SUV was practically curb to curb on the skinny road, and so I threw the bike into a two-wheel drift, slammed into the left-front quarter panel and shot over the hood and onto the asphalt, breaking a brand-new carbon fiber Specialized Epic right at the head-tube lugs.
Oddly, though the bike was a total loss, I came away with just one minor injury — a long scrape on my right shin that looked like someone had been after me with a potato peeler. I made her drive me to the ER for X-rays anyway. And since I had the good fortune to tangle with what was apparently the only motorist in New Mexico driving with insurance, I got a new frame and headset out of her husband.
As war stories go, it’s not exactly a thriller. So leave yours in comments.
This is your captain speaking
The mom-in-law (a.k.a. Herself v1.0) is getting set to jet home after visiting for the past few days, and how do she and Herself v2.0 spend the morning? Watching coverage of the disappearance of Air France Flight 477. This strikes me as not unlike preparing for surgery by reading stories about doctors absentmindedly leaving gloves and/or tools in body cavities or sawing off the wrong bits.
I hate to fly, myself. I’m not frightened by air travel — I just despise the procedure, which is reminiscent of a bad day at the Murmansk DMV. Take this off and that out, then sit down and shut up. We’ve oversold your flight, so you may be napping in the concourse for the next few days, and if we do have a seat for you you’ll find it and your plane at Gate X99. This is Gate A1. Run, you fat bastard, it’s wheels up in 30 seconds. Either that or we’ll be leaving when we’re good and ready. Have a peanut. That’ll be five bucks. Perhaps I was a feedlot cow in a previous life, being prodded down the long, shit-stained feedlot chute that eventually leads to McDonalds.
John Crandall update
Kathy Crandall writes thusly:
Shoulder surgery went well.
They were able to plate it … as opposed to the alternative (shoulder replacement)
I’m still thinking Thursday or Friday (before John’s ready for visitors), but if it’s sooner, I’ll post.
I’ll check out the old fart tomorrow.
Good news. I’ve always said I’d rather get screwed than replaced. Here’s hoping John feels likewise.
Happy Bike Month
Bike Month finally comes to Colorado in June (we’re a little slow). Naturally, the weather has gone to hell, with showers and thunderstorms in the forecast all week long. Bugger. I’ll bet it won’t slow down the guy we saw cycling through the Garden of the Gods yesterday, the dude with two prosthetic legs. Somehow I doubt a little precip’ will turn him into a weepy little girl.
I’m another story, of course. A sensitive artiste. Dribble a little water on me outside of cyclo-cross season and I melt away like the Wicked Witch of the West; what a world, what a world. Nevertheless, I plan to reprise my usual Bike Month vow, which is to leave the Forester parked as much as is possible for a lazy fat bastard.
That should be a little easier this year as I have expanded the collection of “bicycles” in the Mad Dog fleet. In addition to the usual Bike Month workhorse, a Soma Double Cross with rack, panniers and fenders, there’s the Vespa LX50 — which under Colorado law is classified as a “motorized bicycle.” So I’ll ride the scooter whenever I’m feeling a tad fragile or don’t want to turn up someplace all sweaty and fragrant.
While we’re on the topic of healthy pursuits, my man Hal Walter over at Hardscrabble Times advises that Phil Maffetone’s latest iteration of his popular book “In Fitness and in Health” is now available from Amazon.com. Hal edited this fifth edition, along with a couple of others, and he and Phil are collaborating on a new blog with news about the book, health and fitness tips, recipes and other goodies. Swing on past and take a gander.
And finally, Kathy Crandall advises that Old Town Bike Shop’s John Crandall, injured in a bike-car crash, undergoes shoulder surgery today and may be ready for visitors by Thursday or Friday. Think good thoughts and stay tuned.
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