By Cycle Gymnastics

I had a friend that was clearing out his flat and moving away from the area. He asked if I would like a few items for my household and his old bike. As I had just moved into a flat and had no means of transport, I said sure why not.

So I went round to his place to pick up the bike and see what other things I could use. It turned out that the bike was a 10 gear racing bike. I was a little concerned about this. Well not concerned with the bike being a racing bike per se, I would be using only a couple of gears anyway, but it looked like the wheels would buckle and collapse under my weight.

I must tell you I have never been on the thin side and also I have never been interested in active sports, it being too strenuous due to weight and a permanent eye problem. I am more the board game type Chess, D&D etc. Unfortunately I did have to play rugby at school only because once I got moving and up to speed nobody could stop me. If somebody did try they didn’t usually try again. I won’t say I was the team’s secret weapon, but when I was passed the ball immaterial where on the field, I usually found myself scoring and doubled up gasping for breath.

My friend assured me that there would be no buckling of the wheels or anything else on the bike. It was more a heavy duty type and not one of those you could suspend from an outstretched index finger without realising it was there. Of course I took it; you can’t look a gift horse bike in the mouth saddle. Well it held up and gave me the chance to get out into the country at weekends.
The friend had not only a bike to give away but had also a tic with the colour orange. Not only was the bike orange, but almost everything he had was orange. I also took two clip-on lamps, a lamp stand and diverse kitchen utensils and a few other things. I can’t remember everything I took; only that it was orange! He even had rolls of orange toilet paper, which I didn’t take, no idea when he got them.

After a time I moved away from the city out into the suburbs, green belt, the styx, back of beyond, middle of nowhere, call it what you will, it meant it was a long way to the next tram station. So I had to use my bike every day to get to the terminus. I must say it kept me fit. About 30 minutes one way, all times of day and night and in all weather, summer and winter.

Most of the journey was through a forest, the entrances where secured with a pole that pivoted at one end and could be padlocked at the other, similar to the one pictured. In the week it was always open to allow easy access for the foresters and I use to sail through not thinking it could be down. Of course I usually look where I’m going, but ones mind is sometimes elsewhere when in routine mode.
Every couple of Saturdays I had to do my stint in the clinic. Well it was raining cats and dogs and I had my anorak hood up and secured tight. I was off, my head down and full steam ahead battling the wind and rain. Everything was ok until I arrived at the exit to the forest and the wooden barrier. I just forgot to look up while approaching. I only knew it was closed when I hit it at full speed the pole making contact just below the handlebars.
To quote one Gerald Hoffnung of bricklayer fame, I momentarily lost my presence of mind, because instead of letting go, I held on tight to the handlebars and did a salto using the pole as the axis. I landed abruptly on the other side with my bike (not bricks) now piled on top of me instead of the usual ‘under me’ position. I laid there trying to get my breath back and bringing my mind up to date on what my body has just experienced. After a while I decided to push the bike to one side and in slow motion attempted to get up. While doing this I listened to my body parts for any alarm signals concerning different stages of brokenness.

Surprise #1, it seemed I was still intact, a bit sore and achy due to the unscheduled short stint of aerial gymnastics. I took it that bruising would show itself later, but all in all ok.
Surprise #2, by the look of it the bike had also survived the impact, no wobbly wheels that I could detect.
Surprise #3, my forehead was burning somewhat.
Surprise #4, as I touched it I found it wet and warm.
Surprise #5, on looking at my hand is was rather bloody!

I suspected an abrasion due to contact with the gravel path and with further tactile examination I realised that some of the gravel had decided to hitch a ride on my forehead. I gently dabbed it with a clean tissue and supporting myself on the bike, I started to walk towards a kiosk that was on my route 20 meters away. I had never stopped there only flew by on the way to the tram. This time I decided I needed to find out the condition of my head before continuing to the station.

The kiosk looked deserted; I crocked out a ‘Hello!’ until a woman appeared. She took one look at me and stepped back with a wide eyed look on her face.
I wondered why this reaction.
Then I realised I must look like one of her regular down and outs that I had seen hanging around to drink their last social welfare money. I was thoroughly wet through, dirty from rolling around in the gravel and had my hood up partly obscuring my face and what was visible there was blood dripping down it.
Yes, her expression to say the least was quite understandable. I asked her in my broken German if she had a mirror I could borrow. And explained I needed to check to see the extent and condition of my forehead, also to take the opportunity to clean it as far as possible from the embedded gravel.
She just looked at me.
I asked again indicating my head. She just didn’t or didn’t want to understand what I wanted from her.
I said I had an accident with my bike and pointed at it.
No reaction.
I think she had pigeonholed me under possibly dangerous so keep quiet and it just might go away. Well after a few more attempts at communication I gave up and did go away by wandering off direction tram. I must say except for the frustration with the women, I didn’t feel that bad considering.
After a long walk (usually a short ride) I locked up the bike and entered the tram. Fortunately as this was the terminus there was hardly anyone in the tram to give me strange looks. I sat in a window seat and after placing a handkerchief and hand up over the wound pulled up my hood and gently rested my head against the window. I tried to relax as a headache and drowsiness started to compete in a race to get the upper hand.

At work I went straight to outpatients and quickly had someone clean and bandaged me up. Being staff had its perks.
The rest of the day was without incident apart from a throbbing head. I decided to head for home somewhat earlier than I would normally. After my fiasco that morning, I was at first a little hesitant getting on my bike when I picked up my bike at the terminal.
But after a few dry rides the wheels didn’t wobble and the brakes braked, so I decided to ride home.
When I opened the door to our flat H called me.
By her tone she was wondering why I was home so early. I replied quickly before she came around the corner "Don’t panic I’m okay its nothing!"
Of course she did as soon as she saw me.
I explained what had happened, didn’t get any sympathy or points for my gymnastics with a bike, took a pain killer and went to bed.