(Nothing too serious).

Just another case of me vs. the road, but the road still hasn’t learnt that
Only death can kill me.

I am pretty sore though. I’m typing this with one thumb and one a ring finger on my right hand, and just the four fingers on the hand that’s not my right hand. All other digits are either bloodblistered, grazed, swollen, or just generally fucking sore.
I’m having to do lots of fucking back spaces because I kee[ putting spaces and letter where they’re not meant t \o be.

I was cycling to work today. Beautiful morning. Was half way there when I came down a hill and onto the start of a bridge, when I saw a guy from work being tended to on the side of the road. He yelled something out, but before I realised he was yelling out “slow down, there’s diesel on the road!”, I rode into a patch of diesel on the road and my front wheel shot out from under me and down I went. Fortunately the car right behind me didn’t run me over.

The other guy from work had pretty much matching injuries. The bikes were also a little grazed. Expensive bike clothes, torn.

While we were there waiting (an hour!) for the cops and an oil spill unit to turn up to deal to the 45m long strip of diesel, another guy from work came by on a scooter and ignored our attempts to slow him down with warning hand waves, and the road dealt with him as well. We did manage to prevent a few other accidents though. Some of those were when the police finally turned up, and then showed no interest in trying to slow the traffic down and prevent further crashes. A fire appliance almost lost it in the spill, sprinting off to a … fire, I guess.

We were going to continue cycling to work, but then decided to go to a nearby doctor’s surgery. The adrenaline had worn off and we realised we were sore.
My shoulder was close to being dislocated, I reckon, and my thumb was a little sprained. Various bruises and grazes elsewhere. The doctor told me to take the rest of the day off, so I did.

I spent the rest of the day arguing with my kids as to who had the worst boo-boos and ouchies. It reminded me of that scene in Jaws, where they’re all showing off their war wounds.

I’m gonna get back on the bike.
But not tomorrow. I’m too sore.

Oh, and how much diesel was there? Well, our sides were soaked in it just from the few seconds we spent on the road. And the smell of it on us stank out the A&E.