Wrecking sucks

It sucks even worse when you are getting old...

I had a slow speed wreck on my Suzuki Bandit last week. The details are not very interesting. Basically, I just fell off with a little help from some front wheel slippage at about 10mph. I broke a few things off of the motorcycle and scratched up some plastic (looks like a naked streetfighter is in my future). But I also dinged myself up a little.

Now, I have to say, that the level of violence I experienced in this wreck was tiny in comparison to several bicycle wrecks I have had. I have wrecked into trees at the bottom of a downhill. I have been over the bars on road and off. I have slid 10 feet across the pavement. I once almost ripped my nose off. And, once, I actually had to force myself not to cry when I landed so incredibly hard on my thigh that I thought I broke the bone (no, I did not force myself not to cry because I thought it was too sissy. I did not because I was by myself, several miles from the road and I was afraid that if I started crying I would just give in and lay there). Each of those times, though, I was back riding the next day.

But, this time, while basically falling down off the motorcycle, I am in pain nearly a week later. I mean, I did not even slide enough on the pavement to fray my wool sweater. Yet, somehow, the road rash on my pinkie is threatening to be infected and my ribs still hurt. Or, to be specific, one rib hurts where is connects to my sternum and my spine. I have had painful ribs before. I have had road rash before. But, usually those involve some tale of glory. You know, something like trying to dive inside on a corner and being forced over. Or hitting a hidden patch of gravel on a logging road after cleaning a jump on a downhill.

Alas, a cool story is not the fate of the 4o and over crowd. We just get pain for little falls.