Trashing my body and my garbage can

About two weeks ago I crashed on a routine ride before work in the Berkeley hills. The road was wet and as I came out of a turn, my front wheel slipped out. I slid across the road, painting it red with my elbow.



A nice woman who saw me on the ground drove me to the ER in her Mercedes which I bled all over. I had to get eight stitches in my elbow and and about ten in my lower lip which looked (and tasted) like raw hamburger. And some other scratches here and there.

Blake took this the day of. He was riding with me but about 30 seconds back because he'd stopped to talk to guys coming off a cross trail. When he rolled up, he thought I'd been hit by one of the cars on the scene.



I bought a new trash can and have to throw out the old one. I'd gradually covered it with visitor stickers from my messenger days. Everyday I'd stick on what was left in my pocket. It will be sad to toss it but these things always are.

Lately I've been seriously considering going back to messengering part time. I miss it.