Caution: Wet Paint

I was riding to Felton on Hwy 9 on Monday.

It had been raining all day.
And all day the day before.
And half the day the day before that.


So I was used to the rain, and kinda took it for granted. That, combined with my mental state during the ride - I was in LaLa-Land (I was making a list in my head of all the things I have to be grateful for, one of which included the privilege of being a bike commuter and being able to bike through the redwoods every day on my way home. You'll see the irony of my thinking in about 12 words) - made me ignore my surroundings and crash my Soma for the first time.


Adria's gentle reminder to me after she inspected and dressed my wounds: "You really have to be present when you're riding Hwy 9, Clay."


Yeah, I wasn't present, so the the left side of my body and the left side of my bike got a gentle reminder.


Here's how it happened: There's a spot on Hwy 9 with a long slash of dried paint - maybe 30 feet long. I've always noticed it on my rides, and never paid it much attention. Not until this crash. When I limped up the road to snap this picture, it became obvious how the paint ended up on the road. I think the road crew that painted the barrier ended up dropping the paint on the road, as well. The red "x" marks the spot where I crashed.


So, it turns out that paint gets really slick in wet conditions. Note to self.

Wet paint, combined with the fact that I was not "present" and was going downhill on a curve with full panniers was too much; physics took over, and I ended up sliding about fifteen feet on my left side, the bike on top of me. Yes, I had my helmet on, and yes, the monster truck that was 50 feet behind me didn't hit me.

That night, shortly after washing down three Advil with a big class of cheap red wine, I was reflecting on the accident. And that was the only moment that I called it an "accident", because "accident" implies that it could not have been prevented.

Then I thought, ",Hmmmm...if it wasn't an accident then I wonder if there's a new bike commuting law that could be created from this." Turns out there's not. That law was already created - it's #2 here (http://clayton-ryon.blogspot.com/2009/02/four-laws-of-bike-commuting.html). Note to self.

Anyway, the monster truck driver was very nice - he stopped in the middle of the road to make sure I was OK. I waved him off as I shook the cobwebs out. As I was picking up my bike and moving it off the road, I looked down the hill and noticed that the monster truck had pulled off the road. I think he was waiting to make sure I was OK. That made me happy. It also reinforced a recent observation about monster truck drivers...but more on that later.

Here's a picture of the injuries immediately after the accident. A strawberry under my left kneecap where I hit the road. Roadrash on my left shin from sliding on the asphalt. A shallow cut on my right calf from the chainring. (BTW, this is why some bicyclists shave their legs. It has nothing to do with aerodynamics, everything to do with giving the road less stuff to grip when you crash.)

And this little gem on my hip. I took this picture at home, not on the side of the road. :)The bike took a little hit, too. Cracked the hoods on the handlebars where the shifter attaches...
...and my rear hub is making a funky sound. And the brakes are a little jacked up.

In addition to reminding me about my laws of bike commuting, I took a few other learnings from this crash:

FACT: The scariest part of crashing is the split-second before you crash - when you know you're going down and you think you may be able to prevent it.
FACT: That feeling is a rush (...afterwards, when you're OK).
FACT: When you crash, you become very present. What you did at work that day and what you're going to make for dinner that night no longer concern you. What if we could be that present every moment of our life!
FACT: There's something very manly about sitting naked on the side of the tub with a stiff drink watching your blood swirl down the drain.