Dear Knight in Shining Two Tons of Steel


I was unconscious. Just below Mulholland Drive, on the forty-plus-mile-per-hour descent of Beverly Glen, a furtive pothole induced a slow-motion somersault over my bicycle handlebars. A debatable number of minutes later, the curious paramedic tested my basic math skills by thrusting incalculable fingers in my face in the back of his ambulance. There was blood dripping from my helmet and my inability to speak or answer simple questions resulted in uncontrollable giggling. Subsequent to a hospital road-rash body check and sponge bath, x-rays and CT Scans, eight stitches to my left auricle and zero change in my ongoing headache, despite two doses of Vicodin, my date took me home. Escorting me from the emergency room to my front door in a taxi, followed by a treacherous walk home in his cleats was probably not exactly what he had in mind.  Continue reading