Over the years, I’ve gotten off on the wrong foot several times … occasionally put my foot down … and, every once in a while, put my best foot forward.
Then there are other times when I have put my foot in my mouth.
On Tuesday, I put my foot in another place it shouldn’t have been. I ended up in a ditch with a bruised hip, shoulder and knee. Yep, I better explain.
I was riding my bike south of Coloma, Mich., when my little flashing taillight attached to the rear fork kept slipping around, causing its rubbery fastener to rub into my spokes. Instead of just stopping, I would kick it back into place with my left foot. Yeah, I was too lazy and too enamored with a nice tailwind that I didn’t pull over to properly secure it.
So on the fourth time of doing this, I somehow managed to overshoot my kick and ended up with my left foot (and bike shoe) stuck in the spinning spokes. First things first: Ouch! That also caused my bike to come to a screeching halt and for me to topple over.
Fortunately, I landed in grass and so no road rash. Unfortunately, I’m old (74 at last count) and any fall is going to smart.
Even so, I quickly pulled my aching foot out from between the spokes and jumped up to see if anybody witnessed my crash. Whew! The guy mowing his yard down the way had his back to me. If nobody saw it, then my foot faux pas might as well be my own little secret, right?
But when I picked up my bike for the rest of the ride home, I noticed that my chain was a twisted mess and my derailleur had broken off the frame. Not good news. I can fix a flat but that’s about all I can handle.
So I found myself out in the boonies and 35 miles from home with my wife Margaret up in Holland, Mich., almost an hour away, shopping with her BGs (best girls). Yikes! I called her anyway. She didn’t answer but our friend Becky did, thankfully, and pulled Margaret out of a dress shop.
Long story somewhat short. The BGs changed their plans and Margaret and Becky drove down to pick me up. They said they were tired of shopping anyway. (I don’t buy that for a minute.)
In the meantime, I walked the two and a half miles to the McDonald’s on the outskirts of Coloma and had an apple pie and frozen coke while waiting for them. A guy working on his truck said he had a pump if I needed it. Then he looked at my detached derailleur that was almost dragging on the ground and made a face. Even though he was wearing a Green Bay Packers hat, I appreciated his offer to help.
My walk took about an hour and I waited another half hour for the girls to show up. They brought two cars so I could drive straight home. Very thoughtful. Because they were going to be at Becky’s lake cottage another two nights, I told Margaret to buy all five of the BGs lunch.
I guess that means I “footed the bill” for them.
Later that day, Nick the mechanic said the bike repair might be a little costly too, because I broke some part that he couldn’t immediately find on his screen search.
I’m also sure Margaret will figure that she deserves the dress she had been looking at before I called. Another ching-ching. I agree, though. She deserves it.
And after my foot foolishness, I know what I deserve. Only I believe it’s anatomically impossible “to put my foot up my own …”
That’s about the only part of my body not hurting anyway.
Contact Bill at [email protected]