Today I went on a bicycle ride to get relaxed after my hand/spur surgery. I soon realized, though, that changing gears is harder with a spur than with a hand, but I made up for it by getting a good laugh every time I spurred a friend to make him ride faster. You should have seen them take off! Pretty soon I was all alone. A bad mistake. After just a few miles, my tire suddenly blew up, rocketing me two hundred feet into the clear blue sky. For a few quarter seconds I forgot about the danger I was in and was only conscious of how good it felt to be flying. Suddenly all thought of flight flew from my mind as my face contacted asphalt and proceeded to shave my face down to the bone. Then I woke up.
Ok, so this is what really happened: My friends made me work so hard I decided to fake I had a flat. Then I fell asleep on the side of the road and dreamed this whole story up to tell them when they came back to find me, which they didn't do. Instead they all went out for lunch and enjoyed my non-presence. While I waddled the 250 miles home I decided I would try something new: not get a flat next time I rode. Also maybe flying wasn't such a bad idea.
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1 comment:
wow. that's really intense.
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