Taking on the pavement again

You know, I was just thinking the other day that it'd been a while since I'd picked up any new scars from falling off my bike. Turns out I was overdue.

Rain came through Ann Arbor tonight, starting around sundown. I was just leaving Silvio's, having finished off a couple slices of arugula pizza, when I felt the first sporadic drops hitting my arms. Actually, the day had been hot, up into the high 80s, and the moisture felt nice.

By the time I got close to my apartment, the rain was coming down steady. I was having trouble seeing the road through wet glasses, and periodically I tried ducking my head to shake the water off. As a last resort I'd go a few seconds at a time with my eyes closed, trusting my own memory of the road home.

I nearly made it there laceration-free.

On the last turn -- the one into my apartment parking lot -- the old, familiar feeling came back: The tires slicked out from under me, and I felt my unsupported torso heading earthward. Automatically I put my arms out, and my elbows mashed into the pavement. Right afterward I picked myself up, looked in every direction, and just like the previous times, sighed relief to discover I hadn't been run over.

In the end, my butcher's bill turned out to be manageable: two scrapes on the right elbow.

Hours later, I've still got a sting in that arm, but I'm no less ready to head out on the bike again, hollering: "Bring it, pavement! Is that the best you can do?"