Over the past few weeks, I’ve suffered a number of injuries — not one related to riding a Harley-Davidson.
- While photographing a donkey basketball game last month a well-placed kick from a jackass left a deep leg bruise;
- Last week, something in my back popped while I brushed my teeth and learned over the bathroom sink. Walked around in pain for four days;
- Now I’m walking on two broken toes — caused by a collision with a piece of furniture in the dark in our bedroom.
Yep. I ride a motorcycle and I get hurt a lot. Of course, not one of the injuries is related to actually riding the bike but my friends are right. I ride and I get hurt. The pattern is long and ugly:
- Before the snow melted from the winter that never ended earlier this year, I slipped on the ice while trying to walk down the driveway and reinjured an already bad ankle;
- Last summer I hit a mole hole while mowing on the side of the hill that masquerades as our front yard and jumped off the John Deere as it rolled over. Landed on a rock and busted a rib;
- Messed up my knee when a high school football player mowed me down on the sidelines while I photographed a game;
- An errant basketball left me with a bloody nose while photographing another high school game;
- Broke my foot after stepping in a hole while covering FloydFest a few years back.
Yep. Must be the motorcycle’s fault.
Or maybe I should stay on the bike. Life seems safer there.