The Wounded Rider .

Here I sit, inventorying the damage, listening to Neil Young, periodically dropping a pain pill, a Valium or a antibiotic, thinking about the 50's when they'd dunk a guy like me onto a vat of Mercury for it's healing powers. It's not the bruises, I know their short lived, the cuts turn in to battle scars, the ribs will stop pulling when I breathe. The most painful aspect is impact with cement, unforgiving, brutal, solid, cutting, how can an element that serves mankind in so many good capacities be so brutal to its' makers? I've yet to hit a sidewalk or street that's had any mercy on me, no softening, no breaking , no absorbing, just oooooof! , out with your lungs ,the solid hit on your bones , muscles, appendages, you raise your head and first wonder what the hell happened then realize it don't matter now, take inventory of bones ,  stop blood flow,
don't have to worry about picking up your bike, someone will stop and do that for you.
Stand up , stretch out, check systems for operation , humble yourself, acknowledge that maybe your  not invincible, check your bike ,will it take you home? can you take you home? or do you make that pitiful call, "come and get me "please", a fate worse than the crash.
Gravel, dirt, road debris, cover your wounds like a bad bandage. I ask the lifesavers if they caught the incident on video, they never do, such an event should be recorded for study, to enable reliving  the pain of impact over and over and over and over. I knew I was due,  my bad Karma had risen to unspeakable levels. I'd like to have said I fell so hard it knocked my shoes off ,but since they were still strapped to the pedals, facing different directions,  that didn't happen. Just like a Tarzan movie all the animals stop making animal noises, the dogs, cats, rats, birds, nutrias, chubracabras, coyotes, all are silent for they know the flubby giant has slapped the earth. They pause without attempting to pick up the bike.  Ok, so no bones are broken , the bleeding stopped, you've cleaned out the debris from your wounds, some of your humility has returned, only cause you did it all yourself,  check out the bike,wheels are round, handles still up, seat still on, brakes work , time to go .    In a documentary about snake handlers,  one was bitten 17 times by poisonous snakes and continues to this day . One bitten 7 times did die. These men are obsessed with their hobbies. The obsessive bicyclist is the same possessed soul.  The obsession commands you to fit it's needs, no fear of pain, injury, or even death.  Obsession and compulsion harbor in your Psyche, shift your gears, drive you like a  diesel truck, they have no mercy, conscious, or feelings , they delicately balance you on a tightrope , one side sanity, one side hell. It drives you to hell at it's  notion.
I can only take the ride so I do . There's no ridding this demon, you can't remove it because it's you.  A parasite created by your own emotions and fed well by your fears and anxieties.
It's appetite is never satisfied , wants more and more and more, unrelenting it insanely controls your perception of reality , so once again , beware, what you see may not be what you saw, what you hear may not be what you heard,and what you think may not be what you thought. .
 I close with Caruso doing Vesti la Gubba...
gary
 .

Vacation Rides......

First I'd like to congratulate my friend Frank for winning gold in the Louisiana Senior Olympics in cycling.   Franks older than me and in better shape than most 19 year olds.  If you think working out 7 days a weeks will par you with Frank , think again, it would take more.
Frank also achieved another goal but I can't tell you about it,  it's military related and not for the public. . .

Another friend of mine Chad wrote an article for Louisiana Sportsman, about their Duck Hunting trips , the prologue was excellent , way to go Chad.  their posse is my son Neil, Chad, Charlie, Nat, the Coach,Hal, Chads father in law, Chads son Dylan, and Truman Gandy.

On vacation this week,  Rode last Sat and Sun, Mon, Wed, Thur, today ( Sat ) . Marie and I spent Friday on the Natchez and in the quarter, ate supper there, strolled around,  watched for potential murderers, kept our distance and had an escape route always.   The weather was great, the river ride was great, the atmosphere was great , had a good time.  Thursday did a 50 mile ride, same route as usual for 50, River  Levee, Audubon, quarter, city park , lakefront, Bonabel  boat launch, W Napoleon to Lafaniere , finish miles there then home.. Today my goal was the same do 50 and take off tomorrow for rest and relaxation. 
I figured out how they moved McDonough 11 , they put the rails through the bottom floor, removed the bottom floor and dropped the school on the rails. No lifting. No bottom floor .
The school is now 2 story not 3 unless they rebuild the bottom floor.
 St Marys Church is next to the Ursuline Convent ,near St Mary's Gym.,  I sat there waiting for some enlightenment , the door was locked , no Constantine today.
Today's ride was interesting,. I ran into Frank on the Levee, we stopped and chatted, Franks the kinda guy I can talk to about the writings of Candide, Russian History, " The Art Of War",
Joseph Campbell, Hemingway and the quadratic equation.  Today we discussed the laws of balance, not Bernoulli, not Newton, how important control of your front wheel is to balance. When you lose control of your front wheel your going down.  If you fly in an airplane there;s a calculated risk, if you drive a car there's a calculated risk you'll get In an accident, if you ride a bike your going down sooner or later and in my case regularly. In the words of Bob Roll, ( Tour de France Rider)  "Crosswinds and Scar Tissue".  I was making the turn from the WWII Museum on to Camp St. the very most tip of my left handle grip touched a triangle 5 ft tall Men at Work sign, down I went , oooof! was my last words.  Opened my right forearm, got a hip pointer, and bruised some ribs, several people rushed to my aid,, I wanted to sit there and take inventory of my bones, they wanted to help me up, and one seemed to feel that putting my bike upright was related to my well being.  I thanked them profusely , dusted myself off, cleaned up my arm and went on my way. Continued on my way to the quarter, headed up Canal st to take Bayou St John to City Park, there's a path on Jefferson Davis Pkwy, I take it regularly, to keep cars off, a cement block is at each street crossing, plenty room on each side to go around it, when I got to Orleans Ave. I was watching the traffic as I approached the street.  At a good clip I hit the bumper, cavitated , left foot trapped in  the pedal strap, entangled in the bike, struggled to get out of it, reopened left forearm, damaged left thigh, rehurt right hip, bruised more ribs, skinned knee,  damaged bike, and had to ride 10 miles to get home. Again 4 people stopped to help me, it must have been and exciting crash, I asked if anyone had it on film, no-one. The nice people that stopped offered all they could, and one person felt again that uprighting my bike was paramount to my recovery, I thanked them profusely. I sat there a few minutes , took inventory of bones , no breaks,  just blood all over. I decided the ride was over and headed home ,  managed 35 miles, thigh hurt all the way home.  As time went on legs tightened up, the pain level increased and I forgo a Valium for a Vicodin, a hot bath and an hour later with heat pads stuck everywhere , bikes in the shop ,  about time for my next Vicodin,  and I'll be hobbling to church tomorrow.  It's been a while since I went down this hard, but  it's part of the  deal,  I'm thankful no bones were broken , thats 5 weeks in a cast, by Monday night I'll be on my spare bike tempting fate, maybe next time it'll  be in the grass and not on cement. . . Ask me why I wear a helmet.
This is a sobering blog, not very inventive or twilight zoney, reality was bad enough...
gary

St Mary's Church at Ursurline Convent. Didn't help .

Window front on Decateur

After the 2nd fall.

Don't forget the knee.

Notice my struggling marks in the dirt.

SJ Peters. . . What an education .

McDonough #11 without bottom floor.

Blew this open twice...

Take a good look at this picture.

Skyline at dusk from in the river

St Louis Catheral from in the River.