I'd brought my bike in to the amazing Meticon on Friday to fix a shifter lever that had popped off. Whereas dudes at the not-at-all-bad bike shop near my work had basically thrown in the towel and said "you're screwed, no way to affix this downtube shifter to an aluminum frame with the tools in a normal bike shop", the dudes at Meticon had looked a little closer and noticed that it was just a pair of rivets. They are the best and I recommend them. So they fixed my shifter and I was on my way to work this afternoon, 48 hours after the passing of my symptoms thank heavens, and it was shifting amazingly smoothly. I went up that weird secret hill behind the Wal-Mart effortlessly; what had previously been a chore was now a pleasure...
...So what happens on my way to work? At the blind corner where the I-205 Multi-Use Path opens out onto Burnside St, there's some dude going a million miles an hour around the corner, taking it a little tight because some construction company had left a lot of crap in the path. So naturally, out of the three or four cyclists I'd seen all day on the path, I collide with one of them. I'm fine - I've become much more adept at knowing how to fall off my bike without rebreaking my elbow - but my front wheel appears to be hosed, my chain is knocked off, and I have to drag my bike to work and stare at translation jobs after having hit my (helmeted thank goodness) head (not too hard thank goodness). We'll see if Meticon can work another miracle.
That said, the half-hour where I rode my bike to work was pretty amazing. And the moment that I went vaulting over my handlebars was, also, in retrospect, pretty amazing - I felt like that moment lasted a half-hour, with my mind calculating rotational velocities, prioritizing where to fall. And the fact that I emerged without a scratch on my body - not even a scratch on my beloved favorite thrift-store wool shirt? Amazing!
Speaking of amazing and brief: Bobbie Gentry's "Casket Vignette", full of surprises even after many many listens over many years.