I bought a mountain bike 30 years ago, and really enjoyed it. That is, until Igor came home from Panama, went for a ride with me and cut right in front of me to make a right turn. He lever looked back to see where I was, and I hit him so hard, both bikes were destroyed.
I flew over my handlebars and landed on my left knee and hands. The gloves saved my hands, but my knee just kept swelling up. We went to the doctor, and he drew out some arterial blood, and said, “Uh-oh.”
That wasn’t exactly my thought, but I do recall that Igor never did apologize.
No more bikes for me. Either that, or no more Igors....
Or no more of either!
How are you doing?