This could be a really long story, but I’ll keep it short because I’d rather spend my time beating the crap out of Michael.
Yesterday, Michael took me out for a ride after he finished his “real ride” to show me a few things on the bike where I was having trouble. Other than it being really windy, things were going okay until we hit mile 6 and Michael decides he is going to sprint into the wind until we get to our turn-around point (I say he was just showing off, he says he needed more cardio.) Halfway into the sprint Michael decides to look around to see where I was and his front wheel hit a dip and he face planted right into the pavement. He was unconscious for about 2 ½ minutes and incoherent for another 20 minutes. Luckily, a nurse (in a van, thank God) and a volunteer firefighter saw the crash, pulled over and helped me load him into a car our bikes into the van and got us home so I could take Michael to the emergency room. He doesn’t remember the accident at all. He doesn’t even remember that we were out riding together. It was pretty scary. Yeah, so much for that experienced handling post.
Official diagnosis: concussion, he’ll be breathing out of his right ear for a while, a chunk of skin missing from his calf, severe road rash and a whole lot of itching. The dumb fuck landed on a fire ant mound. Other than that, he’s back to his normal self. (Click on the fire ant pic, it’s really funny – in that really sick spousal way).
I have more pictures, but I’ll spare you because they are all of Michael sitting in the emergency room wearing nothing but some blood and a pair of underwear. Oh, and apologies to those I emailed the pics from my phone. He didn’t look nearly as naked on my little phone screen.