The math is simple and quite universal. I'm including some pictures, for your enjoyment, although I woudn't recommend them for dinner conversation. So here's the story:
Saturday, 11 Aug., I participated with my family (Mom, Dad, Sister) and a large number of friends who kick butt at cycling, who happen to also be co-workers at Berkeley Data Systems (Mozy), in cycling 111 miles around Utah Lake. It was a beautiful ride- and fast. I was lucky enough to get caught up in a great group of riders near the beginning of the ride. We rode about 30 miles together before... the incident.
To set the record straight, the fence really did make a face at me. I simply can't take that kind of taunting... so I did the only respectable thing and tried to take it out. Seriously. That's how it went down.
I was riding #2 in a long line of riders when we simply didn't see an upcoming turns. We were cruising probably around 26-27M/h when #1 (pulling) saw the marker and took a hard left. I was a little too slow, a little too stupid, or a little too inexperienced to keep the turn. I took it wide, hit the gravel, and shook hands (and feet, among other things) with the fence.
After becoming blood-buddies, we painfully parted company (I distinctly remember saying, "It's not you, it's me..." to the fence). The front tire was trashed- torn wide open in a couple of places. And... well... let's just say I say a lot of red. Initially, I didn't realize the extent of the damage to the bicycle. I attempted to jump right back on and keep going. It didn't work.
Across the street, a very nice woman had seen me getting acquanted with the fence, rushed out of her house with first-aid supplies and a phone, and tried to give me a hand. I was still quite bent on getting on with the race; I refused any medical assistance and, after waiting a long ten minutes, picked up my bike and started walking the course. So what if it took me two days? I would finish!
Fortunately, one of the local shops (whose name escapes me, but I *will* post it later) who was riding tech support stopped and helped me get the bike patched up enough to get riding again. I finished the remaining 70 miles over the next few hours.
I have to admit, it was entertaining to overhear snippits of conversation at the four stops I made after the ... incident. I took all of the damage on one side, so I could very effectively pretend like I was just another rider until I wanted to drop the bomb and turn around and... wow, it was just plain fun to see the faces. At one of the final stops, I heard one of the other riders:
"There's this guy who looks like he hit barbed wire- he's really torn up. I've passed him twice already and he still keeps coming back!"
Yes, yes, I do believe I finished before this fellow. Initially, I hadn't planned on making any stops. The ... incident ... convinced me otherwise. I kept them very short, nonetheless, and gained a lot of time over some of the others because of it.
Invariably, each time a person saw the damage, they would make a suggestion for a better story. Among my favorites: Brawling with a Bear, Catfight with a Cougar, Bagging a Badger... there were quite a few more. So, to conclude, here's the "Real" story:
I'm a badger-beating, bear-wresting, cougar-slaying biker from Utah. Fences mean nothing to me- so if you see my bike and you know what's good for you, GET OUT OF THE WAY!!!
:)
