Sunday, May 9, 2010

Straight to Hell!

Maybe it's the poison ivy spreading like a gated sub division over my legs and arms. Maybe it's the groin injury I keep aggravating. Maybe it's the jammed ring finger that just doesn't feel right, months after my first crash of the year. Maybe it's the hammered knee, from the jump track crash. What diff does it make?

I hoped to be healed in the company of crew and magic trails in Ellijay and Pisgah. The riding was epic, no question. When I got home, I had the worst respiratory infection I have had since I laid in bed for three weeks with pneumonia. My house decided it needed several thousand of our dollars. My computer hard drive crashed and so did I...AGAIN! I have averaged a crash every two weeks, since late February. Whats the rub? My neck feels great! Go f#@^*+*# figure.

Then there are the human challenges. The confrontations out of the school yard play book. The small indignities that one must suffer as a price for turning O2, into exhaled breath. The subtle, passive aggressive pokes to the chest, that normally I don't acknowledge. In the current climate (tired, hurt, and out of reserves) the message goes to the bridge, where the pissed off captain fingers the "launch" buttons.

I know I am a comical character to all that know me. You would rather hear a funny story of how I fell in a creek, while my crew all stood around laughing. Sorry, I don't feel like putting on black face and singing "Mammy" for you. I am fresh off an engagement as the pissed middle aged guy, confronting a twenty year old douche bag, at the movies. I'm not coming to you as a repentant parishioner in the confessional, but as a guy ready to roll in the grass with the next prick, that flips my switch.

And the contenders are lining up. They started with the two dicks on carbon Scott's talking shit at the Stomp Out A Cure race in February. Even though I beat them both by a ton, all that remained was the anger. Not one shred of satisfaction survived the day. I had a mild skirmish with a rich Soflorida punk that almost crashed into my son. I held my tongue when the shop rat pushed my buttons. I have to say, when a local rider professed a high school love crush he had for the mother of my children, I think I behaved admirably. I gave him several outs, which he ran by like remote exits, on a desert highway. A few weeks later he let me know (in front of my wife) that he would have beaten me in the Red Bug Challenge, had he not been late.

Had any one of these grounders come my way, during a normal epoch, I would have dispatched with them like Pedroia. These incidents stack up like pancakes, and it just makes me want to box.

The bike is the cure. The miles are the meds. When the cure becomes the curse, and the conduit for all the bullshit, nothing flows. No matter where I go, the hate finds me. It could go either way, armistice or Armageddon. All I know is: the more I try to evolve, the more neanderthals I find.



BIGWORM said...

I don't think hate so much finds one, as one may have it carried around in their back pocket. The bad juju abounds in this world, and when you go looking for it, you WILL find it. Avoid it just like you do poison ivy, and when it eventually gets on you, wash it away, just like the poison ivy. It will still get under your skin, but the more you think about it, the more it itches. Easier said than done, I know. I suffer both of these maladies, with varying success, but you just can't give in, for then you lose on both sides of the coin.

Enough preachin'. Now, for the love of everything holy, PLEASE change that font color or that background color before I go blind!!!

Magnum said...

Your strength is your perseverance.

Suffer ye must the douche-bags of this world.
Good to have you back.

bikechain said...

I'm thinking you need to get some MMA in. You'll either do awesome or a hammer fist will correct your line of thinking. Goosfabra.


nicol said...

HWB's back! :)

juancho said...

I found a Taco Reef/Sebastian Inlet-shirt on the trail. You can have it if it will cheer you up. Of course, it might actually be yours.

Human Wrecking Ball said...

Sold. If ever there was a metaphor for how I feel right now, first peak at Sebastian is it! Three guys getting waves while the pack starves. Looking for the beta dog? He's wearing the taco shirt. I'm not bummed I just haven't drawn good cards for a while.

Magnum said...

tacos? You buyin' Juancho. Let's go out and talk about borin' stories of...
no really, I need tacos and cold beer this evening.

and dude, my word verification is "purvi"? Hee hee.

Double Nought Seven said...

Pissed off, Mad as hell! I like it! Sometimes you have to fight for what is right! Sorry to hear about your illnesses and bouts of the ivy. I am sure with all the climbing training in Ellijay, you're gonna kill me at the BUMP

reverend dick said...

Well written, reeking ball. I know exactly (exactly!) what you are saying about giving someone an out, and them not seeing it much less taking it gracefully. Let the Buddhists have their acceptance- some people need an asskicking.