Tommy and I were well into a mini-epic by the time we got on the Cadillac trail. We found some trail we hadn’t ridden before off of Buck Lake Rd. and before that we saw 3 fawns and a doe bounding over a fence and prancing in the grass. I made the mistake of underestimating the local trails and took the Caddy lightly. Tommy was in the big ring and making a bigger and bigger patch of daylight appear between us so I kicked it up into the big ring myself–just as we turned into a gnarly root corner. I augured my front tire down into a crease and snapped over the bars like a mouse-trap closing. I slammed into the dirt, squeezing all of the air out of myself, and I watched the stars rise in the branches of the pines. I jumped up to walk it off repeating to myself more than to Tommy, “I’m okay. I think I’m fine. I’m all good.” Then I decided to sit down because the ground was moving so much.
That was a peaceful moment. The dial-tone ringing that visits me still receded behind the harmonic gonging that comes from pressing your ear so deeply to Mother Earth’s breast. Colors were brighter and the air tasted sugarcane sweet. A few deep breaths, a review of priorities (stop crashing ranked pretty high) and I walked a few minutes to make sure things were good. Other than a sure to be a whopper of a bruise on my right thigh I think this was more of a homework assignment than a full lesson.