Saturday, I did the Pride race in Piedmont park that I had signed up for months ago. Charlie and I took the dogs down there so they could watch me run. At one point we ran back by the spectators after the 1 mile marker and Sadie really expected me to grab her leash and take her with me. She whined and cried while Charlie and the other people around laughed.
I could have probably taken her but it was already getting hot outside. I thought I was going to keel over at mile 2 in the meadow that was sweltering hot.
Since I had that race we did not go with Katharine, Yvonne and Michale to the mountains to ride motorcycles. I was glad because by the time they left town it was already in the 90’s and they didn’t get back until 9:30 p.m. Charlie and I got invited by Hannah Thomas to a backyard concert so we went to that. It was amazing! The house it was held was just up the street from our little Ujoint bar and we were able to bring a cooler, chairs and things to nosh on. The back yard itself looked like something out of House and Garden and Hannah performed on the deck of this darling little shed that Charlie and I want to build something identical to in our back yard.
The next day we had planned to ride down to Juliette, GA home of the Whistle Stop Café’ but we decided to bag it because we got in so late on Saturday from the cottage concert. So, we decided to ride to brunch somewhere. As we were riding I kept hearing a call come in on my helmet. I ignored it and suddenly Michale was speaking in my helmet.
Hey, are you guys coming over?
No, we thought you’d still be in bed from getting in so late last night.
Well, I thought we were riding to Juliette?
Nah, we’re riding to brunch- you want to come?
Yes, but I need you to come over here – I have a problem.
I sighed. I had already gone over to her house the previous week to help her pick her jinormous bike up from lying on its side in the backyard.
Oh, I was trying to park it and it went over and it’s laying against my car now. I need help picking it up again.
Ok, we’ll be over but we’re down in Candler Park right now it may be a minute to get back your way.
As I turned around and headed that way I hit the intercom button and told Charlie what happened. When we arrived, the bike was indeed leaning up against her [company] car. Fortunately, neither was worse for wear. I grabbed the back sissy bar and helped her right it. Charlie and I had parked down at the curb because Michale has a hellaciously steep driveway that not even I would attempt. After some discussion of riding over to Katharine’s to see if she wanted to join us I walked down to the street to my bike. Charlie was sitting on hers the whole time. We started and watched Michale roll down her driveway, turn sharply onto the street, almost fall over and hit a car parked at the curb before righting herself, taking off and blowing through the stop sign at the end of the street without even looking.
Oh boy, I said into my intercom
You ain’t kidding, Charlie replied.
I was suddenly teaching at Honda again.
Michale darted across Memorial Drive (4 lanes of traffic, I might add) to Katharine’s street. We got to Katharine’s and her and Yvonne were literally just getting up and passed on the brunch. They talked about the ride the previous day and I just figured Michale had worked all this stuff out since according to her she was a seasoned rider and they went all the way up to Brasstown Bald. I mean, surely if she could ride all the way up there and back she could ride to brunch. After Katharine bailing we discussed where to go to brunch and I mentioned Henry’s. (I would still like to give the place another shot before I call it quits on major suckage). Both Michale and Charlie said, Whatever. But, as we rode I thought about that steep parking lot at Henry’s and the turn at the bottom to get into the lot as well as all the loose gravel below. I decided on the Brewhouse in Little 5 just because it was close and we could have rock star parking. This turned out to be a good choice – food-wise and parking-wise.
(this is Charlie’s new Harley in the foreground)
After a delectable lunch of a gyro and so much coffee I was sweating we decided to go to this thrift store so Michale could look for some chaps and a leather vest. I had looked at her skeptically when she explained she was going to start riding in that. Chaps – one thing – that’s fine but just a leather vest? What kind of protection is that? But, I was trying to stay off my soapbox. I had already cautioned her on using her rear brake more after she almost rear-ended Charlie coming up to a light we were stopped at. (I thought Charlie was going to have to stop and clean her pants out one time). I’d also recommended that she take a class on her own bike so she could get used to braking, cornering and operating it. So, I just shut up. I said I knew a great route to take to the thrift store and we took off. The ride over was uneventful and after Michale found some chaps, paid and wore them out of the store we agreed that once we got to Decatur she would peel off and go home and Charlie and I would do the same. At one point we were making our way back and I noticed that Michale was behind me instead of Charlie. I figured Charlie got tired of worrying about her hitting her @ss and let her go. But, later Charlie said that Michale again blew through a stop sign, passing her and that’s how she came up to be right behind me.
I just couldn’t believe this. Who in their right mind blew through stop signs on purpose unless she couldn’t stop?
Once in Decatur, Charlie and I split off from Michale and waved. We were home in 5 minutes and I texted her to let us know when she got home. Twenty minutes went by and Charlie and I were already in shorts sitting on the porch splitting our last beer.
Have you heard from Michale?
Nope. Ima text her again.
More time went by and our beer was gone and I decided to go get more and drive by Michale’s house on the way as she’s about 10 minutes from us. I parked at the street and groaned because I knew I had to run up her driveway to see if her bike was in the back. It wasn’t. I drove by Katharine’s house and she wasn’t there either. I texted Ellen and asked if she was over there and she said she wasn’t. I told her to let me know if she showed up. As I was pulling into the gas station to get beer my phone rang and it was Michale.
Hey, where are you?
Well, I rode over to Nina’s.
I could sense hesitation in her voice. And?
And, there’s a problem. See my throttle got stuck and I went down. I’m going to need you to come over here.
I wondered when it had become my job to pick her bike up every time she tipped it over.
Here’s Nina, she’s going to give you her address.
Nina: She took a pretty good fall and I’m trying to talk her into going to the urgent care.
I’m not only a bike lift but also a paramedic, apparently.
What’s her symptoms? I guess if I was going to play the part…..
She hit her head pretty hard (I heard Michale in the background saying, But I had my helmet on) and she’s repeating the same things over and over again (hence the background, I thought) and she’s nauseous.
She probably has a concussion call 911.
She probably won’t let me do that.
Well, she has really good insurance. Just call them. If she won’t let you take her to the ER.
Ok, I’ll do that and call you back.
I was hoping she wouldn’t but she called back a second later.
She wants me to take her to urgent care.
Well, if she has a head injury then urgent care is just going to send her to the ER. You’re near DeKalb Medical, right? Just tell her you’re taking her to urgent care and drive there.
I was already back at the house with beer when a text from Nina came in saying that she was taking her to the ER.
Whew! She’s finally relented and took her to the ER.
By this time both Charlie and our neighbor Deb were sitting on the porch. We drank while reports came in from Nina. CT scan: normal, but two cracked ribs and an overnight stay in the hospital. I was glad that Nina was handling it – and from what I’ve been told Nina wants to handle it – and more than that.
Let’s just ride by ourselves for a while.
You got it!
It was turning out to be too much like work.