Dreaming of Cambering

It seems like all I have talked about, regarding my Trikke, is falling from it. Well that can happen with anything, from skates, to bikes, to new shoes. I haven't spent much time on why I risk injury in the first place. I think it started in High School...

I went to Huntington Beach High School, and my best friend went to Edison, on the other side of HB. We would meet at the pier after school every day and admire the surfers. Later, I would watch them ride their bikes like they rode a wave, curving and cutting back into the imaginary wave. An "S" shape that continued block after block. I learned to ride my bike like that and it was fun, leaning into the curve.

That was the first thing I thought when I saw my friend StanLe on his new Trikke. That and rollerskating, the other thing I loved doing as a kid.

One of the things I thought of incessantly while on the couch last week was getting back to Trikkin'. The longer I stayed on the couch, the more I would have to work to get back to where I was 5 minutes before the fall. Still, every little bruise, scab or sore muscle made me feel stronger and younger and more athletic than I had for years, 20+ years. So let's just face it, having fun is dangerous... And it's worth the risk!!
photo by Randy Boyd

Tripped over my Trikke again

I have been out Trikking lately and ignoring my blogging duties. But there was an incident Saturday afternoon and now I am out of commission for a few days. So, hello.

StanLe and I were going up Ocean Blvd and the sidewalk was uneven. My tire got stuck against that inch or so wall where the slabs do not meet. I was curving from the left to the right. The Trikke stopped curving, I didn't.

My second trip to the cement was slow and drawn out, not like the blackout of my first fall. I saw a woman in a car at the curb. She was smoking a cigarette. The car door was open. It was an old car. Boom, my knees hit, then my wrists, then my head, Boom.

I rolled over onto my back. I was screaming for my knee this time, not my nose. I heard a woman's voice say "I've done that a thousand times." Then she asked "are you ok?"

Thankfully I was. There was no blood this time. I was so glad to have heard her say she had fallen like that a few times. And StanLe confirming. As StanLe reminded me, "You're an athlete now, it's a sports injury -- ice and elevate." I've been on the couch ever since.

Am I taking this too far? No one said "be careful" to me that day.

photo by Randy Boyd

Birdie and Me

My new best friend, "Birdie" just got back from a ride recently. It was 5-6 miles round trip. It was a blast! Birdie is just so much fun to play with.

She takes me places I wouldn't normally go. I see things I wouldn't normally see. I move quickly through people, places and things. And she almost never complains.

Birdie is my new Trikke. The learning curve on this baby is short. After a few short trials, I am blazing trails I would never have blazed. And I am traveling much farther than the 1/2 block I was traveling last month. Much Farther! Sometimes I just go. It doesn't matter where, cuz Birdie is such fun. I don't even care if it's windy out there -- we've got to carve!!

Under the curse of "be careful!!"

My mother use to plague me with "be careful, dear" throughout my exploratory years. I got a pair of skates, which came with a "be careful, dear." And so I was. I was so afraid of skinning my knee that I couldn't skate backwards. This comes up a lot now because of "Birdie" my new Trikke. After my trip over the handlebars on my first outing, I still get a little nervous.

I was going out to carve the other day and two of my neighbors said, as I was walking through the lobby, "be careful!" I was spooked. I had decided if I got one more warning that I would turn around and at the foot of the TV, pull the covers over my head.

Well, nothing happened that day. I did think of my cousin Theresa. We never really met, I was a few months old and she was 5. Our families were together visiting our grandparents and Theresa rode her bike into the street, was hit by a car, flew 50 feet and broke her neck. She died in the street that day.

I grew up under the shadow of a dead girl. "Be careful, dear" was a real warning, based in muscle memory. It was an admonistration, a mantra to remind me of what might happen in one fast moment. It was a name put on a curse. "If you do something even a little unsafe you might be wiped off the face of the world. Sit still"

I've decided to shut my mother's voice up! I won't sit still anymore. Carve Diem is the new mantra!
photo by Randy Boyd