Live strong; fall strong part deux

Well guess what. Apparently, I shouldn't have a bike.

That's right, I ate it... again. Although this time, it wasn't due to any ill-conceived plans of going off sweet jumps. Also, I'm pleased to say that this time I stayed on my feet.

It is incredibly windy today; there have been reports of winds up to 45 mph. Nevertheless, I set out to ride on my favorite bike trail, about nine miles or so. The first half was horrible; it was on a slight incline and the wind was so strong I could barely maintain speed. My speedometer averaged a pathetic 6 or 7 miles an hour. Coming back, after the turn-around point, I started out understandably well. I was going downhill and with the powerful gusts of wind to my advantage. Here, my average speed was about 23 miles an hour.

Just as I passed a school playground that shares a fence with my bike path, something happened with my kickstand. My size 14 clown-shoe scuffed the ground, causing it to bounce up and hit my kickstand, sending it into my back wheel. If you've ever seen "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade," you can imagine what happened next. My back tire stopped dead in its tracks, causing the bike to do a front-wheelie for about a second and a half. Somehow my legs made it over the handlebars, so when the bike eventually flipped over front-ways, I was on my feet, skidding to a halt in the standing (more like hunched) position.

For about a nanosecond, I was able to contemplate the wipe-out I had just avoided and the position I was currently in. I came to the reasonable conclusion that I had just pulled off the impossible and come out of it looking pretty cool in front of all the elementary kids.

Then my bike caught up with me and hit me in the head.

Now there was no question about it—I looked stupid. Really stupid. Any doubt I could have had on the matter was immediately erased once the entire playground full of kids commenced the justifiable pointing and laughing.

How is it possible that every time I eat it, there are always punk elementary kids there to laugh at me? I think from now on, I'm going to avoid riding anywhere near children; they seem to always indicate that bad things are afoot.

To make things worse, my friends Joey and Erin Penberthy are both teachers at that school, and may have even witnessed this display of my total lack of bike-riding skills. Who knows, they could have been laughing too. I know I would have.