This Monkey's Gone To Heaven

Mayonnaise

My cycling season ended when I hit the pavement face first at Cermak and Archer. I was a Warrior on my bike, a Knight, a Snake Charmer and a Buddha, but in an instant I became all too human. IÕve cycled thousands of miles answering only to my whims, been the master of my universe, courted, challenged and averted disasters. Silenced the ache of a broken heart, eased pains and fears various and sundry; brought my father back to life. Felt right at home in a physical world. Suddenly it was over with nothing left but doubt. Confidence in my abilities shattered. The ride started normally. A nice autumn day, bright sun and crisp air; just a short ride before obligations. Warming up, I hadnÕt even begun to say my prayers when I was picking myself up off the ground then falling back down. I didnÕt see it coming, I didnÕt have time to react. I was on my bike one second, next I was trying to stand and then collapsing to the sidewalk. An event sudden without a chance to counteract. Flung into abandon like a booger on the finger of God.

My cycling season began in full effect when Ben from Chicagoland Bicycle called last February. ÒGood news,your Merckx just came in.Ó I had ordered it special the previous October and was told it could take up to six months. I wanted a special color and I wanted ÒMayonnaiseÓ painted on the top tube. I hate the guys on my team that have great bikes but take themselves too seriously; precious little bitches. ÒMayonnaiseÓ on the top tube keeps me grounded, keeps the ego from getting too heady. Have a great bike and have fun, just donÕt be a PAB about it. Ben built it like the pro he is and I rode it everywhere. I took it through the Rocky Mountains where it climbed like a surefooted Mt. Goat and descended with the precision of a straight rule. Trail Ridge Road IÕll always remember. Climbed to 12,000 feet into winter and then descended as fast as fear would allow (51mph) back into summer again. Back in Chicago I went from being a nobody on the South Chicago Wheelmen to a challenger. I never won a Tuesday Criterium (5th place my best finish) but I influenced the outcome of the races and did my share of pulling the train. I love the feeling of being in a tight pack at 30mph almost as much as I love setting the pace and looking back and seeing 30 guys sucking my ass. I love riding at night so anticipation for the LATE ride was strong. Thousands of cyclists gather at Buckingham Fountain at 1:00 AM and ride through the city until dawn when they serve breakfast. ItÕs not a race but 20 or so of us wouldnÕt accept that. We headed North on LSD which has been closed to cyclists only. I passed rider after rider in a fury because I had to be number one. Had a couple of challengers but all that climbing in Colorado made me hard to beat. I kept asking the cops stationed along the route Òanyone ahead.Ó Pretty soon they were answering, ÒyouÕre the first.Ó A moment frozen in time: an empty Lake Shore Drive, no one ahead, no one behind as far as I can see; a quiet summer night without cars, moon bright and beautiful; me spinning silently breathing gaseous euphoria.

A fixed convert, Masi, Yojimbos, blah blah blah woof woof woof, you know the rest.

I pray on my bicycle. I observe my world and turn it into prayer. I say my prayers aloud. ÒGod, the sun is warm today. I feel strong today. The geese fly with beauty today. I love the smell of the chocolate factory. I love the sound my bicycle makes. I love the feeling of drinking pure water, ice cold. Someone is cutting their grass and it smells nice. IÕm getting along okay without you today, Dad. My legs make me feel sexy and strong. Hello Mister Squirrel, my dog Fergus would love to invite you over for dinnerÓ Whatever I see I make into pleasing phrases. My prayer ends with gratitude. ÒThank you for being alive today. Thank you for my bike ride today. Thank you for my health. Thank you for beauty in the world. Thank you.Ó

On the Amazon a butterfly folds its wings. A sudden contraction of muscles along a left side posterior human appendage, creating force at 27 psi on a lever which pulls a tightly woven, Teflon encased metal cable transferring 23lbs of said force to a pivotal side pull Record braking device, bolted firmly to a minimally raked, chrome plated velocipede fork with a braking compound making sudden contact on aluminum alloy compound radial spoked device causing a sudden catastrophic retardation in forward momentum: a practical application of FaucaultÕs ÒCatapult Effect.Ó [spoken facsimile of Bill Kurtis] Òconsider Mr. Humphrey ÒMayonnaiseÓ Earwicker, catapulted forward through space in a fetal position, frozen momentarily in time, arches upward towards the heavens, pauses, turns downward and hurtles at 32 feet per second squared, same speed as a bowling ball less significant than the fall from grace, towards NewtonÕs apple.Ó Pneumo cased melon,driven through asphalt, gravel, soil, Michael Bolton records, bedrock, magma, emerges stock still, supine in ChinatownÕs Pheonix Park. Thud. ÒMr. Mayonnaise, my name is Dr. Patel, can you hear me? YouÕre in the Emergency Room at Best Western Immunity Corpuscle. YouÕre in shock. YouÕve taken a nasty fall, your teeth are tied in knots, youÕve got pig iron in your arrogance, and infectious Abe Vagoda corruption. WeÕre doing what we can but you keep aging. We canÕt give you painkillers until we Czech 4 drain bamage. Your father will be here shortly to take you home.

ItÕs coffin cold in Chicago. I feel old and afraid. The world offers only dangers, sorrows and trauma. I havenÕt been on the bike since my crash. TheyÕre both out in the garage, haunting me with their intolerable silence. I drink myself to sleep and fall into nondescript gray dreams, slogging through invisibility. I wake too early in the morning with a poison headache. Music has no sound, wine no inspiration. Coffee no restoration. Without my bike I am nothing, and I am too afraid of death to mount. ThereÕs blood on my shoes, blood on my Masi. If only I had a chance, an opportunity to avoid the crash, to out maneuver it, to have influence in the physical world, I wouldnÕt feel so fragile. But I didnÕt. My confidence spilled on the asphalt that day. I pass each day in gloom waiting for its return.

jstraw

I'd like to say something helpful. I'd like to be the fellow human being, the unworthy cyclist, the ashamed, under-inspired writer, the kindred (expatriot) Chicagoan to reach out with my pitiful ascii across the digital ether with something profound and healing.

I fear that I cannot. I'm humbled by your love of the ride, your skill with your prose, you place in my beloved city and I feel envy, and therfore, abashed self-consciousness.

I want you to dust yourself off, face your fear, acknowledge and embrace your pain and thank your god for the chance to see your father...*later*. Here are all the facile platitudes you run through your head and can't make real for yourself...I needn't repeat them. You know them by heart.

Ride again. Ride for yourself...and also ride for me. So you can tell me about it as beautifully as you've told me how the ride has been stolen from you.

That's my selfish request. Next time I'm back I'll buy the beers at John Barleycorn's.

Whitney

Hey there, sorry to hear about your faceplant.

I have ridden and raced both bikes and motorcycles for 30 years and have fallen off so many times that they all just sort of blur together.

Last June while tweaking my Ducati 748 race bike suspension up in the hills here I hit a deer at a fair little clip and blew my spleen into little teeny pieces.

4 pints of blood in my stomach by the time I got to the hospital and they just unzipped me with half my clothes still on.

I have had so many stitches, broken bones, dislocations, large patches of skin replaced by blacktop, etc. that it seems a little silly in retrospect.

What I am saying here is that I know where you are coming from.

The worst time is right after the accident, in the hospital and at home, while you are still weak and sick.

Remember! You are Weak and Sick! and that includes both physically and Mentally!

What you have to do is put your energies into recuperating and stop thinking about the accident.

Get out of your own head and concentrate on just getting better.

The most numerous serious injuries in the US by far are auto accidents. What would you be thinking if you had a car accident? Never go in a car again?

Of course not.

No matter how careful you are in the future, it WILL come and get you, wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whenever time it wants!

The trick is to have as full and as fun and as fulfilling a life as possible in the meantime.

And after all the feeling you put into that piece above, I really gotta think that racing and riding is pretty important to you!

You really think that if you get back on a bike, start racing again and kicking ass, you're gonna be thinking about crashing?

Fuhgedaboudit!

tomdavis80

Well written, I can understand your frustration and your desire to be alive again. You have talent as a writer, but I'm sure you have an even greater desire to be a cyclist. When you are well enough to ride again, do it, don't be afraid, but don't ride before you are recovered. The longer you wait after you get well, the harder it gets to ride in the sun's blazing fury and the night's glittering stars.

Thomas Davis

gntlmn

Wow! You have a captivating writing style. I can imagine that you have a serious addiction to cycling which will easily be rekindled when you finally recover. In the meantime, it seems that Chicago is a huge town. I would contact some of the hospitals and talk to the orthopedics personnel. Ask them if there are support groups for accident victims. You could cheer each other up and motivate each other. The main thing is to avoid gloominess and excessive drinking. I think this would be a good start.

Best wishes to you.