It's possible that after reading the following email from my mom, it was confirmed that I am a bad daughter. Why? Because my first reaction was non-stop laughter, not concern. See for yourself. Also, I'm not posting a picture for this post because the most appropriate would be of a raccoon, and if I do that, Brenda will freak out.
It's back on the bike (see Gospel #12 for more) and Brenda's latest run in with wildlife is best described by the gospel herself:
This morning I’m biking across Amazon Park, right near the trees by the tennis courts. I’m going fast, but not hell bent because I’m not late.
A raccoon runs smack into my tire. I crashed completely and swore like a mad woman because I hate raccoons.
Amazingly, I didn’t hurt myself. Small abrasion on my very cute, first-time-today Title 9 dark green pants. Small because the pants are probably made for some cute girl to rock climb in. “Mandy” or “Kirstin” or someone adorable.
Crunch my toe, dirtied up my jacket and gloves, because I think I slid into the dirt a bit. My whole front tire is catty-wompus, and I don’t know where to begin. A nice young man bikes along. I ask him for help. All I had to do is quick release my front stem, which quick releases because it’s a fold-up Bike Friday. Now wasn’t I lucky? It’s the kind of thing that COULD have curtailed a Zion trip. The 26-year-old kid spent the night before the trip in the Vegas ER with a kidney stone. Fortunately it passed on and he picked up the trip on morphine hangover.
The bus driver asked if I was running late. I said No, I crashed into a raccoon. She said usually those things are more disastrous because of the way we react. Like it was a deer and I shouldn’t have swerved. That damn rodent (are they rodents?) crashed into ME. I was afraid as I went down that I would see more of him, but he got away.
Today, there was a follow-up email on this event:
Someone at the City of Eugene must have heard me cursing Tuesday morning, because today there’s a big border mowed along the sidewalk. Now I can see the raccoon coming.
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