Last night on my bike ride, right when I got home and pulled up on the sidewalk in front of my house, I fell.
This was my first spill on my new bike. Not the first fall for me ever, though, and definitely will not be the last. It took me a long time to learn to ride a bike (my sister finally taught me at El Marino, when I was in the third or fourth grade, and I hit a pole. How do you hit a pole?), and I'm not exactly graceful just walking around, so I'm sure it'll happen again.
But this was the first time lately. I'm not sure how it happened: Patrick took those stupid clip things off my pedals, so it's not like my foot got stuck. I think it's possible I stopped too quickly and couldn't get my right foot down fast enough? Whatever, I landed on the lawn (instead of Kevin's car), and I wasn't hurt. I went down easily enough, I guess, though my girl parts got a bit of a wrenching (this is what I get for not wearing the padded shorts, I guess). I went down on my right side, and rolled over and looked up at the stars for awhile.
Then my neighbors across the street came out and started getting in Joe's car. Luckily Kevin's Grand Am blocked them from seeing me on the grass, but they might've noticed when I got up. That vest is very loud.
Anyway, I debated over telling Patrick but of course I did. Lying on the couch watching CNN, he hadn't seen a thing through the open front door. He worried that I'd scratched my bike, and of course I didn't. I wasn't hurt, either. It had to happen sometime. I think I got off easy.
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