Brutal Bike Crash Could Have Been WAY Worse + My Take On Biking

Ah, bicyclists. The hardest of hardos. Campaigning for shared roads and lowering their sperm counts for the sake of endorphins. Listen, as a kid, I biked everywhere– to the store to get candy, to my friends’ houses to rank the hottest chicks in our grade, and to the clearing in the woods where we met kids from other schools to “fight” (wrestle until someone started crying). These bike rides were an essential part of my childhood and provided independence that I desperately needed, especially during the summer.

But adults have a funny way of taking simple, pleasant hobbies and turning them into full-blown psychotic misery. My ex-girlfriend’s family used to love biking, and I’d have to go along because I wanted them to like me. It would take 45 minutes to outfit me in the proper gear: clippy-cloppy shoes, adult diaper tights, bike shirt covered in sponsors that don’t pay us, clear sunglasses for the clouds of bugs that smash into your face, and a special-ed helmet. Then, all of the tires needed to inflated every single time you rode the damn thing. Finally, with seat adjusted, water bottles filled, snacks in the fanny pack, we’d pull out for a “quick ride over the hill.” Of course, the hill was a mountain, and a quick ride was 2 hours.

I’ve never been much of a “pace yourself” guy– more of a short burst sprinter, a grit-your-teeth man. Needless to say, the group would be casually chatting, slowly churning, enjoying themselves even though the road was so steep that our bikes were basically vertical. By contrast, I am out of the saddle, tackling the mountain like Lance after a breakfast of testosterone and blood. I’d fly ahead, collapse on the side of the road, and watch them pass me, yelling “you’re doing great!” I’d sit in the dust, fuming, until I calmed down enough to get back on the bike. Then I’d sprint to catch up, fly past, and die again. This was my method. Channel the rage, attack, recover, repeat. It’s not an ideal cycle (pun IN-FUCKING-TENDED) for a potential son-in-law. They hated me, we didn’t make it, and I haven’t biked since. Miss her though.

Anyway, how about that video huh?! Nasty!