Tom's Riding Journal

January 2006

Familiarity breeds concussion and the importance of wearing a helmet

I just finished a ride at Ho Chi Mihn.A funny thing happened on that ride. I almost knocked myself unconscious when I hit my head on a tree while riding at full trail speed. It was funny because at first I was amazed that this happened at all. I know those trails like I know my backyard, yet somehow I misjudged the clearance under a tree leaning over the path and slammed the front of my helmet solidly into it causing me to go a little blank for a second, kind of’ like when you stand up too fast and you get a head rush that makes you sit right back down to avoid falling down. After I cleared the fog a little I started to think,“ok get your bike off the trail, shake it off and don’t let yourself go out because you don’t want to wake up without your bike or your wallet, laying in the dirt.

I was so perplexed by the whole thing that I had to take a  look at the offending tree to figure out how I could have pasted my head on it after riding successfully under it for years. Then I noticed that the tree had changed position recently. It had collapsed further closing the gap beneath it significantly but not so much that I’d process the change mentally as I hauled ass up to it- that tricky bastard. It cracked my helmet, which really sucks because I didn’t even have it long enough for it to develop an offensive stench. Oh well it wasn’t really my color anyway.

Here is where the preaching starts: Thank God for Styrofoam. That stuff is miraculous. Without that piece of Styrofoam on my head, I would have opened up a crack in my skull that would have squirted out enough brain pate’ to have made writing this bit of eloquence impossible (well maybe). If you’re riding without a helmet  you are not using the instrument the helmet was designed to protect so I guess it really doesn’t matter for you. However, I enjoy thinking and having control over my bodily functions so I think I’ll always wear one. I might even start wearing one at the shop because I seem to hit my head on shit all the time around there. The coolest thing is that despite being knocked a little wobbly (which I have to confess was a little euphoric. I know that’s sick but I’ve been sober for 20 something years and a head blow that knocks me into semi-consciousness is reminiscent of a buzz. Forget I said that.), I don’t even have a scratch on my head. If you’ve ever seen me you know that the last thing I need in more scars on my head, as I don’t have any hair to cover them up. And believe me that collision would have opened up a big scalp gash without the helmet to protect me.

Anyway enough said about my head. We had one of our good friends suffer a serious bike accident on last Sunday’s ride that resulted in one of those ambulance rides that are so exciting and fun( does anyone remember that Nick Cage movie where he was an ambulance driver that was tweaking on amphetamines?It was pure mayhem.I always picture that when I think of ambulance rides).

 I wasn’t on that  bike ride so I don’t know a lot of details but I understand that our friend lost control when he was riding about 30 miles an hour and crashed .His injuries included a concussion, a broken collarbone and some broken bones in his hand. He was released from the hospital without having to stay overnight which is a blessing but I imagine that he is finding it very difficult to get comfortable when he’s trying to sleep at night and he’s probably depressed at the prospect of not being able to participate in his favorite pastime for quite some time. I join the rest of the club in wishing El Motor a speedy recovery. I also have to mention that the helmet he was wearing undoubtedly saved him from a much worse result.

So I guess the point has been made about wearing a helmet always.

Tom's Apocalyptic Vision and The Hard Sell

I went to the Super Secret Dojo last night where I am vigorously training for the war to end all wars when we will be fighting hand to hand in the streets because we’ll all be out of ammo within the first month of fighting and you won’t be able to buy anything anywhere because currency and credit will be useless. We will revert to being hunter/gatherers in a crumbling urban landscape. In this environment where gas will be unavailable (remember Hurricane Katrina), motionless cars will turn the streets into linear parking lots hundred of miles long. Your only escape will be to jump on your mountain bike with attached trailer containing your food/water and supplies and head into the country.

Your survival may depend on your preparation. You need water purification equipment, a Bob trailer and a quality mountain bike -a hardtail with a coil sprung fork would be the best because of simplicity. You need to know the basics of bike repair and maintenance and you’ll need tools and spare parts.

You will also need some weaponless fighting skills which can be obtained at your local dojo.I recommend Aikido as many of its basic principles can be learned quickly and speed and strength are not essential.

Above all buy the mountain bike and trailer soon because there may not be much time left.The best place to purchase this important equipment on which your vary survival might depend is of course The Urban Bicycle Gallery.You might as well spend the big bucks too because when the shit hits the fan that currency will be useless anyway.Then get yourself in shape, and slim down so you can move faster and require less food for fuel.

If you do all this you may survive and help us repopulate the bicycle-centered, sparsely populated Utopia we will construct upon the rubble of ruined urban sprawl.

Phase one of Urban Dirt lost its virginity on 12-12-05. That was the day a contingent from the UBG dirt crew drove out to Flatonia and made some tire tracks in the soft dirt at the secret location of the UBG Club’s mountain bike retreat. Only a select few were chosen to participate in the trail opening ceremony. President George Bush was there and he rode well holding his own on the Texas single track. He’s getting pretty good because he’s always riding with Ted Nugent on that rocky terrain in Crawford. The Macman showed up and rode his mountain bike for a while before donning his full-coverage gladiator gear and hopping on his motorcycle for some faster laps. I rode my cammo Trance until I laid it down in a turn and couldn’t find the bike despite scouring the woods for 30 minutes (that damn cammo paint). So I had to finish the day with Macman on my YZF250. That turned out to be a blessing because the motorcycles really made the trail more visible by tearing up the foliage better than a bicycle could.

Rocket and Big Joe showed up on their mountain bikes and rode like madmen but they couldn’t keep up with all those Secret Service guys who were following W.  When we got tired of riding, everybody but me and W’s designated driver started drinking beer (I don’t drink). After downing a case of Lone Star, W. and the Secret Service boys thought it’d be fun to fire at some of the field mice that run around out there so they each pulled their service piece and opened up on those little suckers. W. got two of the little bastards before loaning me his  H and K 40 so I could have a turn. I wasn’t as successful but it wasn’t my gun so I didn’t have a feel for it. That whole field mice massacre thing ended up being an added bonus for me because I’ve been needing to eradicate those vermin anyway and those 40 calibers pretty much vaporized the little plague carriers so I didn’t have anything to clean up. Near the end of the day Macman kinda’ went nuts and bit the head off an armadillo in some kind wilderness survival machismo stunt. I guess he was inspired by that new Ted Nugent survival show that W. kept talking about, but the Secret Service guys kinda’ took it as their cue to round up The President and head for home. I handed Macman a towel to wipe the blood from the mini dinosaur off his chin; he washed it down with another Lone Star before we each loaded up and headed back to The Big H.

That’s pretty much how I remember it.
Tom