Had a busy weekend planned, part of which left me at mom's for Saturday and Sunday. I missed my Saturday am ride, due to the fact that I had just put in a twelve-day work week and could not get my ass out of bed on time.

So, I decided to strap the ride to the back of the car, in the hopes of getting some time on the pavement Sunday morning. I was eager to hit the bike trail by my mom's house. It's an old rail line that heads through some nicely wooded parts. It's straight and flat, and incidentally, where I spent a large amount of time huffing a heavy mountain bike around. I could not wait to eat the trail with a set of high-speed wheels.

I got out early enough, around 5:30a.m. The trail is a ten mile stretch, one-way. I had planned on doind a couple of laps to get the mileage above an even forty. At one point, I came upon a pair of doe's that were crossing the trail ahead of me. Instead of darting across the trail they headed into to the right lane, just off the shoulder and going in the same direction as me. I gained some ground on the quickly, but pulled off the pedals a bit--rethinking the idea of pulling along side of two full grown deer.

Shortly afte the first turn-around, I came back to an intersection where the trail meets a local main street. There a decent bump that is about two feet tall at about a 30º pitch. It's not necessarily a slow-down imperative. There is a yellow automobile barrier in the middle of the trail that makes things a bit more dicey. I was clipping along at twenty and decided to take in to stride, as I do most of the bumps--psuedo bunny-hop and motor on.

Only, I heard a wicked snap on impact. The next thing I know, I am headed straight into the pavement--for no appearant reason. As I slide past the front wheel, handle bars still in my grasp, I see the front wheel brush past the right side of my face and then I see my clipped-in feet bring the back of the bike down ontop of me. I slide for a moment and the clip give way and release the bike. Somewhere in there is left hand grinding on the pavement and a warm sensation on my left hip. The horizon has left me and I ride the last of the inertia out on my side.

Honestly, I was the most graceful wrech I have ever had. There was no impact at all. Which is really surprising, since my inspection of the bike, after a quick internal systems check, revealed that my Forte carbon fork had snapped at the neck, where the handle bars connect to the fork, above the frame.

Back-up a minute, I recall just before that moment that I thought my aero bars felt a bit different. Usually there are at an angle that is just above 90º from the ground. So, I can lean into them without feeling like I am going to fall forward. They felt out of place. But, I thought it could have been the pair of perfect martinis I had the night before. There's a healthy amount of thread-lock on the bars--they are not going anywhere. Well, for sure. But my fork had another idea.

Bergeron was available to pinch-hit and take my ride to his somewhat local Performance Bike, because the assholes at the shop in Chicago told me that I had to wait ten days for an opening in their schedule.

The bike seems to be in good shape, with the exception of the cables and a few aluminum bearing scratches. Who wants a pretty road bike anyway?

Anyway, ride on.