Tuco Benedicto Pacífico Juan María Ramírez (en_ki) wrote,
Tuco Benedicto Pacífico Juan María Ramírez

in which new words for pain are coined

So last night the Miss and I are biking back from Tufts, right, and we take Simpson St, which has one of those towable radar sign carts that tells you you're going [foo] MPH and the limit is 30 MPH1. There was a nice long straight flat clear run up to the thing, so I sprinted on the fixie to see what I could get (252) and she did the same on her 87 lb of squishy-tired comfort bike (18).

It's not-quite-dark, but dark enough that I'd have been running lights if I had managed to replace my last set any time in the last 6 months or so. But no! Nothing goes horribly wrong, we slow down to a mellower pace before hitting Holland St, and head up to Cameron Ave. Nice gentle roll down the hill toward home, and

eek pothole
woah, I'm flying? What's up with that
Front wheel seems not to be in the direction of the
oh how about that, my bike is sideways
and *I'm* sideways sliding along next to it
hm, better slow down, I'll slap the ground with my right hand

I was probably going 12-15mph when I hit. Not the worst case of carnobraking in the world, but less than enjoyable on the whole. As I lay there deciding which parts of my body worked, a helpful motorist going the other way stopped to offer the advice that we should get out of the road.

maru_mari helped me up and got the bikes home, I left a helmet in the hole and she called 311 for me to tell them to mark the damn thing. (As of this morning, it had one of those orange sawhorse things.)

So I'm working from home today and nursing an iffy right wrist (definitely not broken, but bits are strained in ways that are problematic for typing and doorknobs), minor road rash on my whole left side and random bits of my right, and feeling the various surprise muscle aches (e.g., right upper trapezius, lower right peronæus longus3) come on gradually over the course of the day. Helmet looked OK but was trashed on principle, bike seems fine.

The accident was my own damn fault for at least two reasons:

1. I'd seen the pothole many times before and hadn't called it in.
2. We were out in twilight despite not replacing my lights yet from the last time they went missing.

and Somerville's fault for

3. The damn pothole. Seriously, it's right there on a major street right by a bunch of city offices, what do you need me to call it in for?
4. Crappy streetlights.

(I'd let them off on 4 if they'd turn the streetlights off completely for enough of the night that one could see a star or two.)

For the record: don't do what I did with the right hand; it's probably better to just slide a little further or make like a ninja and roll. Osteobraking is nobody's idea of fun.

Anyway, if anybody wants to come by with margarita inputs and console me on the porch tonight, there's tequila.

1For the record, Simpson St is one-way, one narrow lane, lined with parking on both sides, and so anyone driving over 20 on it is going to run over a child someday; but since it's an unposted thickly-settled area, 30 is the law.

2For the record, Sheldon Brown says that's 120 rpm in my 42:16 gear, which is not at all impressive for a sprint.

3Never heard of it before, but apparently that's what's at issue when flexing your right big toe results in a cramp on the outside of your calf.

4Apparently, this is the first time on the internet anyone has used the term "carnobraking". Go figure.

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