Or, "Fuck that fucking gravity." Or, "Goddamnit, Horse, You're Too Old for this Shit."
I've often romanticized about the relationship I have with Archie - two minds, one soul; we think together; I need only visualize it and he's doing it. Well, yesterday, Archie reminded me that he is still a freaking prey animal and fallen trees are frightening. Derp derp.
My happy pills won't let me dwell too much on why the fuck I've fallen twice in three months and how much I must suck as a rider, and instead they remind me that I'm taking greater risks with my riding than I have in years. I just need to be better about keeping my ass in the goddamn saddle.
Speaking of my ass, my badonk took the brunt of this fall. And my head. Alas, poor new OneK, I barely knew you. I've got a cheaper helmet on order and I'm going to see if I can replace the OneK at the discounted price... again. I'm still within the three years of the original purchase, but I don't want to abuse the system. It did allow me an opportunity to explain to trail buddy why helmets should be replaced after a fall, especially a fall that leaves you on your knees in the dirt, swaying to the rhythm of your "oh shit"s. I should be better at this by now.
I collected myself for a few minutes, put everything back together, and we proceeded to ride another hour.
As a side note, this was the first ride with my helmet cam since I fell off Ox, while also wearing my helmet cam. I'm taking suggestions for exorcising demonic electronics.