In fact, I think it's safe to say, my bike might be out to kill me.
Friday evening, after a loooooong three weeks of work and before taking off for my well-deserved vacation back to the faterland (MN, that is), I took my bike out for a one last spin.
It was a nice ride, actually. I took it (her?) down to Rock Creek Park, spun around the horse barns, stopped by my friend Mary's house and was back in a bit under an hour.
However, on the last downhill, as I sailed into the parking lot of my apartment complex, something biffed - something biffed big time. I heard metal on metal, hit the breaks and pitched sideways, sliding halfway down the hill. I was doing a fairly hard left hand turn on a steep hill, so my guess is that the metal gear ground against the pavement.
I'm used to my fair share of bruised knees, but the shiner on my left leg proved that I'd deposited most of my skin on the asphalt. The right leg now has four deep gashes, as if I was attacked by a mountain lion, or my bike in fact, bit me with razor like teeth. (In fact, my brother in law suggests that I make THIS the story, rather than the infinitely lamer "I fell off my bike" story...)
Anyway, it looks really nasty. I surprised myself by having non-stick gauze (and gauze tape!) in my apartment, but later got a hold of much snazzier 3M clear industrial bandaids the size of my hand to cover it up. It hurts to bend my skinless knee, and I'm wondering what kind of wicked scars I'm going to have on my leg. I hope it's going to be pretty awesome.
I'm now on vacation and decided that this is probably a good thing for me and my bike. It will give us a little cooling off period, time to think and may remind my bike that without me, it just sits in a closet - and perhaps it ought to treat me a bit better. That is, no biting.