Sep 19 2007
Biking for Bricks and Robots
Had I known I had an audience, I would have done something much more memorable.
Ben and I leave the house Tuesday night for an evening bike ride. It’s becoming our habit as the daytime highs are hitting “only” 92 and the breeze provides a break from the humectant air.
Ben hasn’t learned to use the brake yet, because he hasn’t really needed it. He sees something interesting, stops pedaling, and his bike quickly slows against the training wheels’ drag. I squeeze my brake levers with both hands, the front brakes squeal in protest, and I steer to a stop beside Ben.
“What was that noise, Daddy?”
“Just my brakes, son.”
Repeat this about 10 times in the next 20 minutes and you have a fairly clear picture of most of our rides. But this one had something special in store (and of course I have a sound clip).
He pedals non-stop for a good five- or six-house stretch. He stops to assess a white Ford F150 blocking most of the sidewalk. I stop and set one foot down to keep from falling over, bouncing my left testicle against my bike frame just hard enough to remind me I’m wearing gym shorts, not jeans. We ably navigate around the truck and make it to the end of our street.
We head north a block or two, where the road makes a 90-degree turn and the sidewalk meanders through the two driveways on the corner lot. A barely detectable uphill stretch awaits us.
“Look at me daddy, I can keep going because I have mo, momentum. See-Threepio. Daddy, I can say, ‘See-threepio.’”
I am at once perplexed and proud. He obviously is on his way to mastering Newton’s Laws of Motion, and tends to throw random Star Wars references into conversation. I chuckle and manage a feeble, “That’s good, Ben.” I think he was saying one difficult word after another to show himself (and me) that he could do it.
A few houses beyond Ben’s watershed pronunciation of the fictional protocol droid’s name, he says, “My tummy says, ‘I’m hungry,’” in his best impression of a stomach. To call Shannon and let her know, I confidently take one hand off the grips and pull out my mobile phone. Holding it in front of my face to keep one eye on Ben, I dial with one hand and steer with the other. I punch “Send.”
The answering machine picks up. Where’s Shannon? I wonder. My wife’s voice goes through its spiel. “Hey, it’s me, whatchoo up to girl?” I say, all cool and casual.
Ben stops.
I pull on the left brake lever and veer right to avoid him. Apparently this is a poor combination of movements. My wheel turns too sharply and I go airborne, holding my mobile phone aloft the way a redneck avoids a beer foul. I land hard on my right side, in the grass between the sidewalk and the street. After my first bounce my back hits a bricked-in mailbox.
“Ow!” Pause to make sure I’m alive. “Oh,” I moan. “I’ll call you back.” I flip my phone shut, like Kirk would his communicator after getting a final message to Scotty before succumbing to an ear-splitting sonic pulse.
Push play to hear my call as recorded by our answering machine.
Remembering we’re in public in broad daylight, I choose getting up over writhing in agony. Plus, I don’t want to scare Ben. I look across the street to a neighboring front porch. A young woman with dark hair flashes white teeth in a smile that somehow says, “Gee, that was funny, but I see that you’re okay. Still, that had to be embarrassing.” It’s amazing what we humans can detect (or imagine) from one look.
“What happened, Daddy?”
“Daddy crashed. Let’s get going.” I holster my phone.
“You crashed?”
“Yes, son, let’s go. You said you’re hungry.”
Ben gets a headstart as I call Shannon and leave a message announcing that I’m fine. We head back without incident. My phone rings as we pull into our driveway.
“Are you OK?” Shannon asks.
“Yes. I just had a little wreck on my bike.”
Sitting here typing this, I reach up to touch the middle of my back. It smarts, and probably will start turning colors soon.
Those brick mailboxes don’t care about your momentum.
Man down… That was funny. I haven’t had a crash yet, but Charles has had several. The best was a botched effort to make the turn from the bottom of the driveway onto the sidewalk that leads to the front door. He dented a landscape light and did a little damage to a bush. He was unscathed though.
So far I’ve managed to dodge any crashes, but I’ve come close. LC will be riding in front of me in the subdivision and he’ll decide to stop or weave quickly for a water puddle. Luckily my new bike has disc brakes on front and back and it stops on a dime. Otherwise I would have run over him more than once, which would definitely provide some free entertainment for the subdivision.
Wow… sorry you got hurt Mark.. but now know why it’s illegal to drive and talk on the cell in many states… *LOL*
Hope your back feels better soon bud.
Your dedication to sound preservation never ceases to amaze me. It’s one thing to bring along a recorder. But actually thinking ahead, “I’m going to crash, thus making interesting sounds that my readers would like to share in. Having no stereophonic whiz-bang digital recorder, I should quickly call my home answering machine just so everyone can join in the fun later.”
That’s a whole nother level, Mark. I’m touched, truly I am.
Charles - “Man Down” would have been the perfect post title.
Disc brakes? Somebody forgot his roots of a 20″ bike with coaster brakes. But that’s OK.
As rarely as we crashed when we were kids, I think I figured out what did me in. It’s that my center of gravity and several other things are different on a 26″ mountain bike than on a 20″ BMX model. I can do a bunny hop, but wheelies are dangerous.
Dave - “Got hurt” is still out for judgment. I feel fine unless I touch that one spot on my back, and my right arm is a bit sore. Nothing a tough hike in the woods wouldn’t cause.
MG - If only I’d had my recorder. As it is, though, the listener has to settle for my digital recorder’s recording of my 8-bit answering machine’s hissy warble. My second call to Shannon included this directive, “Don’t delete my first message,” because I already was laughing imagining how it would sound.
Thank you for making me picture your left testicle, Mark. Between Ben’s increasingly impressive addiction to Star Wars and your own disinclination to filter out some of your most intimate thoughts, I can’t help but feel our bond growing stronger.
Frankly, I was hoping to hear more physical damage on that recording. I imagine most of what’s inaudible is the fault of a) your cell phone mic being the only receiver, and b) your crappy answering machine recording. Still, I could relate.
I once went ass over handlebars when I used my right hand to take a drink from my bike’s water bottle and then had to brake and turn suddenly. Those front brakes are unforgiving in a turn.
But if you can still reach up behind you and touch your back, you can’t be too badly hurt. Wuss.
And also, now seems to be the time of year where, unlike our respective dollars, any sort of parity in the weather becomes a thing of the past.
Your mention of daytime highs being ‘only’ 92 degrees had me shaking my head. Our mornings now typically dawn somewhere between 38 and 45 degrees, with daytime highs straining towards 60. Sure, we’ll still get the odd day or string of days above 70, but with a carpet of yellow leaves already starting to decorate our lawns and streets, that dear old gal Summer is showing us her backside and the miser called Winter is creeping into her place. Gorgeous time of year though.
Simon - The funny thing about Ben’s interest is that he’s seen the SW movies just that one time. Well, not counting the pod race scene from Phantom Menace, but C-3PO makes only a brief appearance in that, and isn’t recognizable as the same droid.
Nah, I’m not hurt. Mostly my pride, really. I might get a different helmet to help disguise my identity should we wander to that same street on future rides.
Your weather sounds great — for now. I won’t say the same in late December, early January, when we occasionally see highs in the 50’s and 60’s, while you’re lucky to get above 10 F.
What can I say that hasn’t already been said?
Oh, yes. Could you do a cartoon-sound remix of that call, matching up the boinks and crashes as best you can with your recollection of that historic flight? That would be awesome.
And yeah, it sure has been nice to get some cool weather lately.
Awe man, I can’t stop laughing. I’ve played this thing 6 times and I’m still laughing out loud. What you failed to realize was that your initial “contact” with your bike frame was your Spidey scenses telling you to be on the lookout. And the recording doesn’t let a real impact come across, but the change in your voice on the last word “back” really lets us know you’re in pain. There’s real strain there. Also glad to see the initial “contact” wasn’t foreshadowing a future, more severe injury. Hope you feel better.
Here’s hoping getting out of bed tomorrow doesn’t end up on your “Things That Really Hurt” list.
HeY Mark,
Too tired I was to blog ,just red your “fun” story this cheered me up Thank you man! :) Good writing like in the movie or a book :)
Peter - See? You managed to say something. I’m totally hearing those sounds in my head. Some classics by the sound effects guys from the Looney Tunes of old. Preposition, anyone?
Josh - I guess you and I (and Charles, as far as I can tell) got the biggest kick out of it. I laughed out loud. Of course, it probably goes under that category of “had to be there,” and I was there. Plus, you know me in meatspace (isn’t that a gross word), in 3D, or whatever you call it, so picturing it is easier for you.
Linda - Two times I’ve got up in the morning now since the accident, and nothing like that so far.
JoAnn - Thanks for dropping by again. I love that banner picture on your blog.