Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Crash at Murrieta+Cracked Frame=NOT HAPPY

Can you really console someone after their brand new custom SC Velo/Incycle team bike get’s completely ruined? Would you even approach such a volatile and emotionally emptied bike racer? Especially given the terms on which the bike was ruined; nimrods attempting to negotiate a turn at a higher speed then the skills granted by God in place.

It was just a matter of time before turn #2 claimed flesh and carbon from the Cat 3 pack, the cycling Gods were above and salivating at the riders in front of me taking corners like a drunk hillbilly driving a lawnmower.
So with 3 laps to go, it finally happened. The self about 2/3 of the way up the pack, heard the sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Like an earthquake ravaging an IE suburb, it’s something you hear before you feel. The click clacking of spokes, the screech of brakes; lycra clad, waif like humans launching into heaps of sheared carbon and artery slicing chainrings.

Well, sweet baby jesus if I didn’t do my damndest to get out of the way. I moved off the road into the dirt swinging outside. I thought for sure I was going to get around it, but the people in front of me had other ideas. They all moved over too, and before I knew it I was airborne.

You know, it’s a sad thing when you are flipping upside down and actually have a few seconds to think, “f..k, this is going to hurt.” Wham! First impact on the top of the helmet and back of the shoulders as I slide upside down, the sunlight blinding me. Just skidding along and still thinking, “Jesus, I cannot believe I crashed.”
I come to a halt and slowly pick myself up. The stinging on my skin where I skidded along is developing. My handlebars are bent all the way down and curled underneath my top tube. I cannot move the steering tube. Oh well. Paramedics show up and take care of the walking wounded. About now I’m thinking “no big deal, I will be back tomorrow.”

Then I see it. The CRACK.

My heart sinks to the doldrums. I mean LOW. You got to be kidding. I got this bike a month ago; it has FOUR races in it, and is now utterly useless. Now my spirit sinks. Later on Mother will offer:

“At least you’re ok, the bike can be replaced.”

“Hey, the important thing is you’re not hurt bad, don’t worry about the bike.”

REALLY!?! I don’t see anyone offering to front me the money to fix it! FERCHRIST’s sake I have medical insurance I could get a freakin' lobotomy tomorrow and it will be a $5 copay. Like I give a shit about me. Losing the bike is worse, but I still love you mom.


LadyDianRavenblood said...

Sorry to hear that Dave. I take it you won't be riding in the San Dimas Stage Race this weekend?

Dave Jacobson said...

Unfortunately no..... :( But my old bike is up and running I'm feeling better so hopefully next week I will be racing again.....

Eric said...

Sucks to hear that your bike is dust.

I had to laugh when I read your quote of your mom. Back when I broke my pelvis, dislocated my hip, shattered my knee, and in general did irreparable damage to my left leg in a crash; I'm lying in the hospital bed in enormous pain, talking to my dad on the phone and he says to me "well son, at times like these you need to count your blessings". I just about came through the phone and punched him in the nose.

People really can't understand unless they've walked a mile in your shoes.