visit home, part 2, or: biking is fun. no, really! and safe! honest!

it had been understood that the chef would join us for a ride, to encourage him to take part in the wonderfully fun, safe, and fun-safe sport of cycling which is fun, and safe, and has a very low rate of injury overall, especially when compared to how fun it is. and also: safe.

anyhow, after our first ride took us by his apt in under 13 miles, we decided that instead of him meeting us at the ancestral estate, we'd saddle up and bike to his place, where he'd join us for a quick out-in and maybe a stop for date shakes. this plan was executed and he met us as... uh... planned. we set out for PGA West, a nice golf resort/housing area with nice, cushy streets, bike lanes, and little traffic.

we kept a slow pace to not intimidate the chef. still, i could not hold his pace forever and sprinted a little here and there. my left cleat was nearly completely worn down and i declared that the gentle pace afforded me opportunity to practice techniques, such as clipping in and out with my other foot, to become ambidextrous, or ambifootstrous as the case might have been. hops declared that she'd do the same, only left foot clipping, since she normally uses right.

at around 6 miles from the chef's apt, we came to a stop, and over hops went. she jumped up and said "it's bad!" i looked and in a moment of confusion wondered when she'd gotten the big new green and red tattoo on her left achilles heel area. whoops, that's no tattoo! it was an enormous gash, surrounded by bike grease. ick.

she said she was fine to bike home. we disagreed, home was 20+ miles away, and i thought i could see bone or tendon or something. as the chef and i talked about whom we could call for a medevac, hops jumped back on her bike and pedaled over to a nearby guard house. the chef and i settled on a nominee and i went off to see what hops was up to. the gash wasn't bleeding too much i guess. she told me the guard had said that the gate just a bit down the road had a first aid kit. she also said she was having trouble clipping in (no kidding, really?) with the injured foot but would be okay to ride the 50 yards to the other guard house.

we regrouped over there, and as the guard (a nurse in training, or a former nurse, or something) applied some first aid, we came up with a plan. the chef would wait for our friend to come pick up hops, the friend would take her to the ER. meanwhile, i'd high tail it back to the chef's house, get the keys to his truck, truck it back to the guard house, pick up the 2 bikes, and then we'd figure out how to meet hops at the ER. it seemed like a good plan at the time. i checked that hops was okay, gave her an energy bar, and set off.

ugh, headwind. could be worse, i figured, i could be injured. still, i wasn't getting the speed i wanted on account of ugh, headwind. i pushed on. somewhere along the way, by a weird coincidence, i ran into our medevac. he seemed lost. i redirected him and called the chef to appraise him of the situation. i continued on into the headwind which got worse as i went on, and became laughably bad as i cycled between some dunes and on to a really rough road. whatever. i made it to the chef's apt, cleaned the junk out of his trunk, the junk in the trunk being, paradoxically, a trunk, and drove back to the scene of the accident. along the way, i compounded my initial crime of driving without a license by calling the chef without a hands-free.

he told me hops had gone to a Urgent Care center which refused our insurance. great. so off she went to the actual ER. i got the name of the hospital, then called the folks to update them. they expressed some horror at the ER to which hops had gone -- it was "the bad one". whoops, i shoulda known that. called hops herself, she seemed happy enough, making new friends in the ER waiting room. then, she got called in and we hung up.

the chef and i loaded the bikes, drove back to his place, unloaded the bikes, drove to the ER. me, in my bike shorts and Arrogant Bastard jersey, braided beards, salty face. He, in plainclothes. I was a bit of a sight, i think, and got more than a few stares. Anyhow, hops was in good spirits, the place seemed a bit dirty, maybe not as hygienic as i'd have wanted, but they evidently did a competent job of sewing her up without causing the sort of infection that's apparent in less than 3 days.

after this, hops headed home with my folks, who had graciously come to meet us (ma got to sit in on a real medical procedure, which was thrilling for her, though apparently not too different from the TV medical dramas) and i went home with the chef, to transport the bikes to the folks place.

a whole lot of transportation and injury and other hassles. once home, we were all starving, having skipped lunch. so it was off to the "cheesecake factory" for more feasting, then back home, where i replaced my worn down cleat.

quite a day.