Cracked arm. X-rays, ER, multiple doctors, too much busywork over a small simple injury. X-ray shows big crack in radial bone in arm. Vicodin. Expecting health insurance to cover some. Expecting out of pocket bills. Note to self: Quit &%$#@! around on your bicycle.

All is fine. Mending tolerable. I do not have time to be injured! I took off the arm sling, popped a Vicodin, and got back to work typing with two hands rather than one. Clients expect me to get their work done.

Tonight I think I will be able to floss normally. Last night I flossed by tying one end of floss to chair, and holding other end in left (healthy) hand, and sawing back and forth in my mouth, bobbing up and down on the floss, which sounds way too ghey. =) (Go ghey. I'm all for teh ghey.) I looked v goofy kneeling there on the floor fitting string in my mouth fastened to a chair leg, scowling and cursing.

Hope you all are great.

For my latest caper I wiped out on my bike in an intersection just now. Leavitt and Cortez. Fault was mine. I thought, Why is that car not slowing down? Then I realized the car did not have a stop sign, yet I did, so I leaned back and hit the brakes but was going too fast, so over the handlebars I go, slamming down on the road in the exact middle of the intersection with the car speeding toward me. The car did not stop or slow but drove around me at speed while I sprawled (tangle of limbs and bike) in the intersection. I heard the tires screeching as it swerved then felt it brush past me. The driver gunned it.

Are you OK? a lady called from the sidewalk. From the wreckage I lifted up one thumb to indicate my good health. I was embarrassed abundantly. The driver was speeding away probably thinking, That's what those bicyclists get!

I take pride in being a capable urban cyclist. On the road I'm polite and deferential. I don't make eye contact. I never create a road hazard. Sure, I go through stop signs and red lights, but only if the coast is quite clear and there is absolutely no chance for a collision with anyone or anything. I'm not one of those tiresome, self-righteous cyclists. I'm not a dangerous 20-something kamikaze bike messenger. I ride slow and mellow.

Damage:

To me: sprained right arm I cannot straighten or use. I conked my helmet pretty hard on the pavement so, mild headache. Good ol Bell helmet. And I did something internal to myself such that my left side is tender if pressed. Gashed knee and a pronounced limp. I'm aware of the symptoms of concussion and internal bleeding and if I manifest these, will report to ER which is nearby.

Mainly it's my pride that's wounded since, in this caper, I've advanced several levels in dumbness.

To bike: the sprocket housing was bent, dislodging the chain. I dragged it over to the sidewalk and bent it back with my good hand and reseated the chain and got on my way, very grouchy. Cheeks burning. I haven't wrecked in a long while.

Be safe out there.

Too much, too little sleep tied to ill health in CDC study
I think we should avoid CDC studies. Thank you, MIKE STOBBE, AP Medical Writer.

B vitamins fail to cut heart risk in study
Whatever study that was I am glad I was not in it. Thank you Reuters.

Scientists find something good about a big bottom
Bicycle race!

And now the Bennett sisters, 1910.

Fines of up to $500 for motorists possible under new Chicago bicycle ordinance

Sure, this is a little helpful, but I think we're missing a big problem, that of wandering pedestrians. How many times have I had to brake suddenly to avoid plowing into a pedestrian who, for some reason, has wandered into the street where cars and bicycles are likely to be found? I would feel awful if I ever ran into anyone or caused injury. I ride my bicycle slowly and look around me constantly, mainly to detect the errant pedestrian.

Yesterday a guy in a suit talking on a cell phone crossed the middle of the street, weaving among waiting cars, popping out right in front of me in the bike lane. I braked and missed him. He never even noticed me, but kept on walking and talking, never looking around him.

Had I been going faster or not looking, I would have struck him, and he would have been injured (which I would really regret) and I would be sued.

Spanish driver sues dead crash cyclist for damage

Another dead bicyclist. People take their cars very seriously.

In a way it's good to see that other people besides Americans can be abominably self-centered.

Woman gets extra long sentence after laughing about man she killed

I can see how, irrationally, she and her friends regarded the dead bicyclist as a nemesis since, had she not killed him, she would not be going to jail for ten and one half years.

One wonders how the damning telephone call came to be recorded and then played for the judge. Was there a plot against Arrington? Is the phone call recording admissible?

The sentiments of the unknown male friend, the unknown acquaintance, and Arrington are, I think, representative of much of humanity. That's depressing. Illogical and selfish. Remorseful only when apprehended.

Killer cyclist dodges prison
In Stenalees, Cornwall. This is a real shame. 25 mph on a bicycle is too fast in an urban environment.

Anger is a terrible thing. Right at the moment when we need self control we have none.

Bicycling in the city is often an adventure. I've earned two flats in Chicago and one of those ruined a tire. The lady mechanic at the bike shop showed me the wide tear in the tire grip. This was a puncture resistant tire I bought at City Bikes in DC. My buddy Paul put it on for me. Paul is an avuncular bike hippie with a long beard. Genuinely nice guy. Expert bike fixer. No matter how badly I messed up my bike Paul could always fix it. Except for that one time when I wrecked with Jeannine. We messed up that bike bad.

Here in town I'll pull over on my bike to pick up nails and screws in the road. Below please find a group of tire puncturing implements I collected in only a few weeks. Quite an arsenal.

Where do they come from? Do carpenters scatter nails willy-nilly? Is it an act of joy? Yippee! I scatter nails! Do wayward joiners leave behind them a trail for to find their way home?

I'm always careful when I pull over to collect a spike. In this impatient town people yell at you or blare their horns if they believe you are going too slow or hesitating for no just cause. They do not trust your judgment. So it was in DC. So it is in every city I think.

Here's this medieval pile of screws and nails.

A couple of weeks ago my pal Jeannine and I drank a margarita pitcher at Mixtec then wrecked my bike riding it double. Jeannine too generous tries to assume the blame or some of it but it's my fault since it was my idea. Hey Jeannine c'mon I'll give you a ride home on my bike. The bike is FUBAR:


My friend Anne says the accident was a result of my inner chaos and my bike was the victim. I'll go along with that. It was a good bike and had a too short life. My inner chaos is to blame. But it became an important task to drink a pitcher of margarita with Jeannine then attempt to ride home double on my bike. First she sat sidesaddle on the rear rack, and I drove. Then we switched places and she was as wobbly a driver as I. This kind of thing works fine in Holland. Why not here. The wreck of the bike was unfortunate but, given the state of us, predictable. I regret the loss of the bike. Mostly I am glad Jeannine was not hurt in the fall. I dragged the bike home behind us since the wheel would turn no longer.

I rely on a bike for daily transportation to meet clients so I got a new bike, a bianchi boardwalk with an aluminum frame. It's agile. There is an entire culture built around bicycles and a lot of machismo. There will be no riding double on this bike. Mark the repairist at City Bikes chided me about that. He's a kind, handy, slightly sardonic young man, with bad teeth and a scruffy appearance. All of that connotes a good bike repairist.

My new bike worries my trouser leg:


Turns out the bike shop sells velcro bands to constrain one's trouser leg while one pedals.

I got my drug fix from India. Atenolol, 50 mg tablets, 300 count, shipped from somewhere in India, I cannot decipher the postmark. The pills are marked in Hindi characters.


It is a good deal. The product seems to be the real thing, judging from my steady slow heartbeat.

Last Tuesday morning I went over to see AG and she made a delicious breakfast like we used to make together and that was the last breakfast we will ever share, she and I, and I left her house pretty down-low and then I went to the gym. Then I made for a network client downtown. I crossed O St and 12th NW when my bike sagged and began to rattle in a regular motion telling me something was caught. I pulled over to the sidewalk listening to the crushed sound of my tire. A man called, Hey, you got a flat tire! Yeah I know it, I said sarcastically. Thanks a lot. I bent and extracted from my tire the nail given below.



I estimated distances to different places that might help me and decided to go on down to the client. Walking there with the bike took nearly an hour. Then there were network problems that I fixed and I was about to go on to the next client when Lindella pauses and tells me there are other problems with company finances that affect me, and I ask how are we going to handle this, and she shakes her head saying I don't know, we're gonna talk about it later. And I shrug and go on out the door toward metro wheeling my broken bike. I parked my bike at home and went out again to fix other problems for other clients and got home late and limping and sat down and drank some wine, then some water, and went to bed, and that was Tuesday and it's done. Hope I don't have another like it for a while.