Crash!!

Yesterday, I bore witness to a violent accident. I saw many shocking and horrendous things. I was first on the scene and administered aid to a bloody, maimed victim. What's worse, that victim was my girlfriend. Here, let me tell you all about it.

The mountain bike ride that would beget trajedy began with a swift jaunt along the greenbelt due east of town. During this leg of the trip, Fern and I passed more than a few Mormon families and their long parades of tandems, tag-a-longs, trailers, and kiddie bikes. Skillfully, we dodged every oblivious runt on two wheels. When we left the greenbelt, we also managed to avoid running over goatheads in a notoriously goathead-rich zone. By the time we were preparing to ride up the trail, talking next to a gate at the trail entrance, our luck had not yet run out, for Fern managed to stand shoulder to wing with several wasps without pissing off a single one.

Fern took off like a horse from the gate. I found myself huffing and puffing in her tracks. After a couple miles, the trail steepend and the gulch we were riding in became an oven. We soldiered on and finally came to a rest when we ran out of water. Recognizing that water keep our bodies moist, and knowing full well that moisture is the essense of wetness, and that wetness is not only desireable, but necessary for living, we decided to head back down the trail in search of this elusive giver of life, this water. Fern led the way. Immediately I was struck by her speed descending the trail. It wasn't the first time I took notice of Fern's grace in the face of gravity, but this time I felt uneasy. The trail we were on was of the "hardpack" variety. While this type of trail offers little to slow a rolling tire-a positive thing if you want to go fast-,it consists of very little for the knobs of a knobby tire to grab onto-which is not such a good thing if you like to maintain traction. Scatter some loose sand, gravel, or rocks on top of hardpack, and you've got a "sketchy" situation. So, I was worried that Fern, in all her downhill glory, might overcook a corner and go skidding and tumbling off the trail. My concern was ill founded because, as usual, she piloted her bike with perfect arching lines and never once lost traction. Just as I began to relax, I watched as Fern's bike transformed into a bucking bronco with both wheels alternately bolting off the ground. The first kick threw Fern off balance, while the second launched her into the air. Evidently, she knew that her hands were meant to be on her handlebars, because, for a second, she made an effort to keep them there. Alas, her feet and butt had already left their appropriate spots on the bike and seemed intent on carrying the rest of her over the handlebars. Instead of piloting her bike, her arms and hands reached out and grappled at empty space. Meanwhile, I watched from a perfect vantage point, some 30 feet behind, and felt dread for what might have been happening to my dear Fern at that moment as her body flopped to the ground and skidded several feet to a stop. I rushed to her side, still somewhat in shock, knowing that the crash was dramatic enough to have caused any number and type of serious injuries. I found her huddled on her side making no effort to move, having yet to perform a complete systems analysis and damage report on herself. I observed long skid marks in the trail that indicated the path of her body as it slid to its resting point. I noted that the skid marks passed right through and over several fist sized jaggedy rocks. This heightened my immediate concern. The blood trailing along her jaw did not help me feel any better. I was able to deduce that the blood wasn't coming from a gaping head wound, broken collar bone, or any other compound fracture, so I started feeling better. Fern had some cuts and scrapes on her chin. She said that her hip hurt. Upon closer inspection we saw that a large area of her hip was covered in abrasions. She also had several scrapes on her left arm and a couple of scrapes on her legs. It was a sad, sad sight, little Fernifer, torn and bruised lying in the dirt amongst the rocks, bravely holding back tears. As soon as we both realized that no serious damage or disfigurement had befallen her, she resumed being her normal, witty, good-natured self. Despite the wounds and pain, she rode herself back to town. Along the way, we joked about the crash and marvelled over its outcome.