My Side of the Fence

The danger isn't going too far. It's that we don't go far enough.

Page 205 of 403

Bike vs. Trash Truck

Im on vacation at our usual haunt: The Outer Banks. My family has been coming here since about 1967 – when I was in diapers. The little cinderblock house we stayed in back then is long gone. Come to think of it, so are the cottages we stayed in up until about 1980.

The Outer Banks has matured along we me. I dont feel responsible for it but it is a good fit. When I was a kid, there was just kid stuff to do. There was only Cahoons store and the Travelers Inn for softserve ice cream. The entire town closed at about 9:00. As Ive gotten older, there has been a lot of development and many places that young adults would be interested in going to came along. Family restaurants have always been here so its a comfortable place. Over the past couple of years Ive become a bike freak and thats great as the localities on the islands have started putting in wider shoulders and bike paths.

However, the Outer banks really isnt my favorite place to ride. I hate the wind. You can bomb along at about 25mph heading south but when you turn around and head back north, youre in for it. That tailwind that was shoving you along now exacts its revenge. Regardless, I need to keep some of the fat off of my frame so I try to get in a 20-30 mile ride every morning. The winds yesterday were pretty light so I did around 30 miles.

I awoke to a pretty stiff wind this morning and decided that I was going to cut the distance to 20 miles. I took off and was cruising at about 22 mph the whole way south. Very enjoyable but I had gotten a late start and the sun was starting to creep up. I was getting hot. At the turn-around point I stopped and horked down about half a bottle of water, decided that there was nothing for it and started back.

Early on in the return trip I decided to simply set the pace between 16-18 mph. It was starting to get hot and I wasnt going to burn myself up that early in the day. About halfway back I got buzzed by a trash truck. He came up close and, with no oncoming traffic, hit the gas to pass me and didnt even swerve into the other lane. That scared the crap out of me but Ive had a couple of close calls in Manassas before (not that close tho) so I kept moving. I was down to about half a bottle of water (0ut of 2) when I realized I was about a mile from the beach house – things were looking up!

At this point, the beach road narrows somewhat and the wide shoulders really do disappear. I usually stick to riding the line and that works ok. Traffic usually moves around and gives everyone room to breath. Well, my luck ran out with a trash truck. I was watching ahead and could see that the sand had blown out onto the should and it was pretty deep – I was going to have to get out into the road to get around it. I turned my head to see a trash truck some distance behind me. I moved over onto the line and looked back – he was holding his line and wasnt going to give me any room!!

I started thinking I need room, I need room and then I started saying it out loud. Well, it was quickly clear that the rotten fink had seen me and wasnt going to give me any room. I did the only thing I could do – take my chances in the sand. It took about .5 seconds before I realized that the bike wasnt going to skim over the sand. It was going to sink and stop on a dime. I remember thinking and then saying: oh s**t, this is going to hurt right about when the bike stopped and I went over the handlebars.

I was right. Im positive that the only reason I wasnt badly injured is that I landed in the sand. However, my left shoulder dislocated when I hit the sand. I rolled over and sat up. Oh my god what pain that was – white hot and then it got worse when my shoulder popped back in. I was rolling around on the ground. Of course the truck never stopped….but several joggers and riders did. The lady across the street shouted are you ok? I replied no and she went inside, never to return…A guy named Allen had stopped – he was jogging – and made it clear he wasnt going anywhere until he had me back to where I was supposed to be. Luckily, we were only about 6 houses down (yes, I was that close) from where I was staying. Allen threw my bike over his shoulder and helped me get back to the house. Thanks a ton dude. I hope I can pay your kindness forward one day.

I have talked to the doctor but havent been to the hospital. The doc said to wait it out a bit to see what happened so Im doing that. Im very sore and in some pain. Im pretty crabbed out right now but I think Ill be ok in a couple of days. Doubt Ill be riding down here anymore….

UPDATE: x-rays are negative but Im in an arm sling. Sorry for leaving that bad word in there….

Could/Should and the Mosque

The last job I ever had (working for someone other than myself) was at a call center in Herndon.  It was initially run by a guy named Joe but he kind of fell out with his partners and was replaced by a guy named Andy.  Andy was a serial entrepenuer – my understanding was that he had started and sold at least 2 other businesses.  Andy was a great guy who mostly ran the company from his house on the eastern shore.  He and I were both into woodworking, we got on pretty well and talked quite a bit.

Andy might quibble with my characterization but, from my enlightened perch, it is my estimation that he was a product of the 60’s.  He was in college when all of that “stuff” happened and he also participated in some anti-war demonstrattions.  At lunch one day over at the Mongolian Grill ( loved that place – best food ever – don’t know if it’s still there tho) He recounted one demonstration he was part of where a bunch of people locked arms and blocked the Key bridge.  It was, naturally, part of a war protest.

According to Andy: “We met up on the VA side of the bridge, made our way out to the middle and then just formed a human chain accross the bridge.”  I asked him: “what about the cars?”  He indicated that there were sufficient police around (they knew this was coming) and that the road had been closed.  He then told me “the thing that I’ll always remember about that day, the thing that will always stick in my brain wasn’t so much the anti-war slogans and complaining about the cops trying to stifle our freedom of speech.  That was de rigeuer.  It is my memory of a particluar police officer who, as part of a police line, walked directly up to me and held up a can of mace.  The police were on bullhorns telling everyone to disperse – that the bridge is a major highway, etc etc.  So, I at some level, I knew that we were causing a lot of trouble and that there would be consequences.  However, I don’t think I was ever more surpised in my life than when that cop pushed the button on that can of mace and discharged it into my face.  I don’t know why I was surprised.  I shoudln’t have been but I was….”  Andy then kinda trailed off there and looked off into space.  I asked him “what happened then?”  What happened?  Well, we ran like hell or at least as fast as you can run with a face full of mace…

Our constitution clearly protects what Andy and others were doing so they could do it.  Should they have done it?  Well, it seemed like a good idea right up until that police officer’s finger pressed the spray nozzle. 

The folks that are considering building that community center are probably well within their rights to do it.  Should they build it there?  Our way of life, our constitution and our ideals demand quite a lot of us as Americans in situations like this.  I can tell you from my experience at the sharp end of the stick that defending someone’s right to do something wildly unpopular (like put up signs of a certain size or conduct marches and demonstrations) is very difficult.  People don’t like it and they aren’t interested in the details.  Those folks in New York should consider carefully.  The amount of forebearance demanded in this case might just be too much to ask.  Sometimes even we lousy Americans deserve a modicum of consideration.

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