Janis,
Normally this would fall under the heading of "that's funny becuse it didn't happen to me!" Unfortunately such is not the case. One Sunday in about 1982 I rode a 10-mile time trial along George Washington Parkway in Washington D.C. / Maryland. After the TT a friend of mine asked me to go for a short ride, but I told him I was reluctant because I had my new tubular race wheels mounted and didn't want to damage them on a training ride. As a more experienced rider, he patiently explained that I should do the ride to recover from the TT and that I shouldn't own equipment that I wasn't willing to ride. (Of course, he trained on SSC blues!)
Cutting to the chase, we were slowly leaving the parking lot after a mid-ride drink stop, when I looked down for some reason that I can no longer recall. The result was that I lost tracck of my course and rode directly into a curb at maybe 10 mph. Not enough speed to hurt myself, but I put a major flat spot in my precious new Ambrosio Montreals. Probably serves me right for being worried about my gear. If I had used those wheels without hesitation, fate would dictate that I'd return home with my wheels and tires intact.
This thread reminds me of how much wierd, silly and sometimes awful stuff happens on bike rides. I know at least three people who have broken bones in crashes resulting from looking down or reaching down while underway. These include a school mate who tried to close his front QR, caught his hand in the spokes, and broke his arm, and my poor mom who got her mitten caught on her downtube shifter and crashed as she tried to free herself (ever heard of gloves Ma?). She gashed her chin, broke her finger and at the age of about 40, had the wind knocked out of her for the first time in her life. The "funny" thing was that last matter was the scariest part for her. She propbably thought she was going to die.
One funny thing about mom's crash is that the Fire Dept was first on the scene and my sister, then in her early teens, was crying "she's not on fire, she needs a doctor!!!".
Tom Dalton
> The year was 1973. A freckle-faced girl of 15 with a
> head full of dreams.
> The plan was to meet a girl friend for a day of fun.
> Since I couldn't
> convince my Mom to let me drive the Oldsmobile 98
> without my learner's
> permit, I'd have to mobilize myself. I headed out
> the door and grabbed my
> brand new lemon yellow Schwinn Varsity and rode off
> in the direction of
> downtown Salem, Oregon.
>
> This beautiful big 25" bike was my pride and joy,
> especially since I had
> worked the entire summer at my sister and
> brother-in-law's gas station,
> pumping gas, to earn the money to buy it. All the
> hoots, wolf whistles, and
> horn blasts I had to endure while blissfully
> 'servicing' the local boys and
> their hot rods, knowing full well that at the end of
> the summer I'd be $100
> richer and able to purchase my own set of wheels
> (albeit, the skinny
> 'one-and-a-half-inch' variety).
>
> Well, I was never one to go anywhere or do anything
> slowly or cautiously,
> and this fine Saturday morning was no exception.
> I shifted into high gear and maneuvered the Citron
> Steed through the
> intersection at the end of my street. No one coming,
> so
> I punched it and started the rapid descent down the
> big hill.
> 10.....15......20 miles per hour. I would soon reach
> terminal velocity,
> but was distressed about my right toe clip not
> fitting properly over my
> size 10 Scholl's Exercise Sandal (the BEST for
> cycling!). I looked down to
> see why it was hung up and at the same time, reached
> down to correct the
> problem.
>
> As I was looking so intently at the toe clip, and
> whizzing so briskly down
> the long hill, I failed to look up to see the curb
> directly in front of me.
> I had drifted ever so slightly to my right and
> steered my bicycle directly
> into the curb at 25 miles per hour.
>
> The height! The trajectory! The 'style points' !
> The landing.
>
> After ten minutes of watching little blue birds
> tweet merrily around my
> head, I regained consciousness and realized that NO
> ONE had even witnessed
> my amazing aerial display of athleticism. And at six
> feet tall, it was a
> mighty impressive display!
>
> Fortunately, only a little skin remained behind and
> I gingerly mounted my
> Schwinn and slowly rode into town. The one thing I
> never could figure out
> was why the wheel wasn't even fazed by the impact.
>
> They sure don't make 'em like they used to!
>
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