Crash Giraffe Concert

Just not all at once

I can’t believe half of July is over. At the end of June, I took my sister and her kids to the Turtle Back Zoo, where we fed giraffes and rays and saw lots of critters. Then a few days later, on the trails I ride every other morning, I crashed my mountain bike on a blind drop that I’ve taken dozens of times before. This time, it had been eroded by rain. I should have checked it, because I had helped shovel out a clogged storm drain that was eroding a different part of the trail. It was fine a few days earlier, and then it was not.

I went over the bars and landed on my hip and chest, and badly bruised my ribs, sternum, and iliotibial band, and lay there with the wind knocked out of me and the bike seat planted in my back. Luckily, I did not break my arm on landing, though I think that’s what bruised my sternum. I can’t remember. My first instinct was to stand up and breathe, to discern if I had broken a rib or punctured a lung. Once I caught my breath, I got back on the bike and carefully pedaled back to the car, taking flat trails.

Having recently read a post on Reddit where a rider went off-trail and face-planted at 30mph and put himself in a coma, with his helmet on, I realized just how lucky I was. I could have broken my neck, or given myself a traumatic brain injury. I was traveling too slow to avoid the missing part of the trail, but that saved me from a harder impact.

It’s been ten days, and I am mostly recovered. I chalk that up to a daily cocktail of creatine and tart cherry juice, and seven hours of sleep every night. I’m past fifty, and I’ve always healed slowly, so I am impressed that I’ve already gone on three rides and started weightlifting again. Some fellow riders repaired the trail a day or two after I crashed and reported the erosion. Exactly one week after the crash, I was back on the trail, and I rode the repaired drop to make sure I would not get gun shy. (Yes, I checked it first.) Saturday, I rode ten miles at Franklin Parker Preserve, and I feel great. Pizza and beer may have something to do with that. A week before, I had eased along at Black Run for a mere five miles, and I felt like this Eastern Box Turtle, who I saved from becoming a trail pancake:

But enough about my old man woes. The Turtle Back Zoo is run by Essex County in New Jersey, and is one of the gems of the area. It was a hot day, and the big cats lazed in the sun. The otters curled into balls and did not play. The penguins didn’t seem to mind, and the giraffes were perky. My sister is recovering from ankle surgery, so I got a wheelchair and pushed her around. I forgot that the Zoo is in South Mountain Reservation, one of the hilliest parts of the county, and I got a great workout getting her to the top of the zoo where the Australian exhibit and petting zoo reside. The kids had a great time, and so did we. I’ve always loved giraffes; large and gentle, and yet powerful enough to kick a lion to death to protect their young. I feel kinship with them over that.

My niece is also my goddaughter, so I dote on her a bit. She introduced me to some cartoons I love, and also to band called Cavetown. I bought VIP tickets for us to see them at a rooftop venue at the New York City Seaport, and the show was one of the best I’ve been to. Meet Me @ the Altar opened with a rocking pop-punk set. I didn’t know their music, but I love them and their vibe. I’m Gen X, and I’ve been going to concerts since I was a teenager; moshing in pits to punk and oi bands in Minneapolis and L.A., basement shows, arenas, Maxwell’s, the Stone Pony, and everything in between. The kids are doing it right. The scene is inclusive, accepting, and friendly. My niece made friends with people her age immediately, and when her mom and I—who watched from nearby—came to check on her, the crowd parted without complaint. They knew us olds were there as chaperones to somebody, and we got no attitude. And they still rocked out, pogoed, and had a great time. Robbie, the singer-songwriter and guitarist of Cavetown, kept asking everyone to make sure they were hydrated. They put on a great show, with the Brooklyn Bridge as backdrop.

They played “Boys Will Be Bugs,” which is my favorite song of theirs. Ironic and satirical, I would have taken it oh-so-seriously if I’d heard it at that age…

I also visited Mount Vernon, and watched fireworks explode over the Washington monument, but I’m too tired to write about it just now. Please vote in November.