Begin my commute home yesterday afternoon in the pouring rain... not the most enjoyable riding as we all know but after spending the 90+ degree day on the non-air conditioned second floor hot box it feels good...stings a little anytime I get above a crawl in rainy rush hour with people barely able to handle a vehicle in ideal conditions.
Sitting in a line of traffic, the painful procession of four or five cars per light cycle and I am calculating that three more lights and I will be through the intersection of he11. Rain stops, I am stopped, everything is stopped.. put the bike in neutral and remove my glasses to clean off the drops of distortian and then I enter the black hole of time and space..... as the black hole starts to loosen its grip, I am now aware that I am laying face down on the ground. What the?!?!?! Who are all these people? Why am I laying against a curb, rolling over, no easy task as it feels as if I just executed a rather sloppy half-gainer full twist into an empty swimming pool.... I find myself surrounded by twenty or thirty individuals from Chicago's melting pot of humanity. Looking over I see a similiar scene surrounding a crunched up, broken black Triumph. Noting, hey, that looks just like mine! Oh, gawd, it is mine. The chorus starts up as everyone in unison starts talking/explaining their version of the "scene". I am watching as four fireman stand my bike up, bits falling off it, rolling it to the curb so I am unware that this chorus also has members of Chicago's finest.... they are not retelling the story, they want details.... all I can say is, dunno, listen to the crowd.
Seems as I was sitting at that light, the car behind me was launched onto my backside by forces of another vehicle slamming into it... I get shot forward, like a golf ball off the tee into the car in front of me...I and the vehicle complete the creamy center of an Oreo cookie. The chorus is still singing, everyone has to line up as if at a wake, and one by one, "dude, you okay, we thought you were dead, look at your bike, that guy hit you, dude you okay, (didn't they ask me that already?)"
I guess I am telling the paramedics I don't want to go to the hospital.... I'm a city dude, when you leave your stuff laying around unattended it disappears. They convince me to at least take a walk over to the ambulance and let them clean up my hand... My hand? Looking down I see this red covered object, is that a hole? Foaming peroxide and forceps to pull out the chunk of street confirm there is indeed a hole....nice.
Spend the next forty five minutes watching the crowd dwindle, the cops are all in their cars writing furiously and a few die hards are sticking around offering advice and opinions on my attempts at amateurish body work on the cycle. Get the fender pulled back off the rear tire, bending back levers and pedals, picking up assorted parts and pieces. Five blocks from home, figure if I have to push it there I will, my back and hip are rooting for it to start up.... start up it does. Cops give me paperwork and more verbal info than I can digest at once, put it in gear and limp it home. Have a couple glasses of my best Scotch and call up the lizard company.... now the fun begins.
Called off work today, not moving very well, kinda feels like, well like I got hit by a car. Gieco is all over it, several phone calls, emails, more phone calls, everyone wants me happy and fixed. Hopefully their wishes will come true....
Alright.... time to call the dealer and the tow and get sorted out how fast I can get the thing back on the road.
Everybody be careful out there..... they all want a piece of you.
