I know it was the week of April Fools Day but I was really not prepared for some of the strange happenings this week. Monday went by uneventfully. Then on Tuesday, I managed to nearly get hit twice in the span of about 3 minutes. Wednesday I got revenge by nearly t-boning my boss’s BMW. On the way to work on Thursday I spotted vultures in a tree next to the trail. In the evening I decided to take in the blossoms (which were nonexistent) in East Potomac Park. On my first lap of Hains Point I spotted a sail boat capsizing in the Washington Channel. The two sailors were clingning to the boat trying to right it but the mighty wind kept frustrating it. The sailors were wearing life vests but the water had to be numbing them. Eventually, with some help, they got the boat back upright.
Yesterday proved to be a fittingly weird ending. I rode to Friday Coffee Club on The Mule. It was warm so shorts and shirts sleeves were the order of the day. I had a strong tailwind the entire way which made up for Thursday night’s brutal headwind. We sat outside for the first time in months. It was dry outside until about 8:15 when a light rain passed through. As we were leaving, Will clipped into his bike, slipped on a manhole cover and went down with a thud. There was pain. Here was the first casualty of Friday Coffee Club. The clear cause of this calamity was insufficient caffeination. Oh the humanity.
A security guard did a nice job of checking on him and summoning an ambulance which arrived in minutes. He was soon whisked away to the George Washington University Hospital emergency room a few blocks away. The fall had cause his shoulder to re-separate. The doctors popped it back in and he reportedly was back at work before noon. Ozzie cyclists are tough.
As for me I managed to get to work without catastrophe. The ride home was somewhat surreal. The office was quiet as this was Good Friday. I left a bit early and rode home. After a couple of miles, I stopped to celebrate. The Mule’s odometer turned 37,000 miles.
Just south of the Dyke Marsh bridge I rode past something in the trail. It couldn’t be. Yep, it was the head and spine of a Canada goose. Probably eaten by an early bike tourist headed north. Gross.
So I am grateful that I survived the week without being hit or eaten or falling down go boom.