Cinco De Mayo Dos Teeth - Breaking Teeth On Bikes

Rest assured you will not lose your front teeth in a bike wreck.  Things happen in threes, almost to the point of being freaky for me.  Tuesday, Adam was the third of my friends to lose teeth in a bike wreck. 

#1 HEATHER

The first of my friends to eat it was Heather, a college friend from UW Platteville.  She cut her teeth (always wanted to say that line from Lassie) popping a small mid-campus wheelie to get over a curb.  Sorry no photo.  We didn't have digital cameras back then kiddies.  The front wheel fell out of the drops.  Yeah.  Yikers.  I can only imagine the moment when she saw her fork in the air and the wheel wobbling its way to the ground.  Think Reservoir Dogs.  Looking back, it was the early 90’s.  Maybe that incident was responsible for the lawyer tabs on quick release forks.  It was horrible, the kind of horrible that can only happen to a pretty young girl in her early 20’s.  The word disfigurement ran through the rumor mill.  A visit to the cosmetic surgeon to fix her chin and yada yada yada she was back with a spectacular set of new choppers.  On the bright Beverly Hills side, I actually think she looked better!

#2 JIMMY

Just weeks ago, THIS GUY, my buddy Jimmy lost half of his front toofers when the wooden slats of a covered bridge deck grabbed his front tire.  While Heather had lost some chin skin, the complete force of Jimmy’s blow came to his teeth.  The more I hear about teeth only injuries, they don’t seem to hurt, at least if you break them off before the nerve.  Ewww.  I just got a heebie jeebie shake down my left leg.  Jimmy peeled himself off the bridge deck, put the two while chips in his jersey pocket and rode the 20 miles home like a champ, taking long pulls and posing for pictures.  The complete story is here.

#3 ADAM

The last of my friends ever to loose their teeth in a bike wreck is Adam.  I think I like him because he sorta looks insane, is a titch quirky, but is really quite down to earth.  Here’s the edited first person account of how Adam ate it and left his teef in a ditch along the mountain bike trails at East Fork State Park in Ohio.

So there I was, in the middle of a perfectly enjoyable mid-week ride with Charlie, Sherry, and Billy.  Dry trail, sun shining, riding was a blast.  It was hard to get much better.  (Only if animated blue Disney birdies were singing and flying around his head) 

Chit-chatting at cruising speed, we had just finished a lap of Phase1 (East Fork has yet to come up with clever names for trails) and started our second lap (Phase 2 I assume, leave a comment if not.)  I brought up the rear of the strung out trail pace-line as we approached a wooden plank bridge corner that I've ridden thousands of times.  As I roll around the corner, so rolls my front tire.  My front end comes to a dead stop with my face forcefully kissing my headset (pretty sure he means stem.)  I endo and, to literally add insult to injury, I fall sideways into the ditch crossed by the bridge. 

(At this point I imagine him struggling on the ground like a snake that was just stepped on by a pro wrestler.)  I propped myself up onto my elbows and unclipped my left foot from my pedal.  I held out my hand and spit the contents of my mouth into my palm.  Like a prospector sluicing for gold, I thumb over a dozen tiny white splinters that used to be my two front teeth. 

Of course I wasn't carrying any air. (For that flat rolled tubeless tire which humorously is his biggest concern at this moment.)  So I shouldered my rig and hiked back to the parking lot. There was no way I was just going to leave and not show Charlie or Bill my ridiculous face (and hair, photo above).   Keep in mind that it was Cinco de Mayo.  So I change my clothes, grabbed a pre-packed Corona, sat on the roof of my Xterra, and played synthesizer until they roll back. 

Footnote:  I had no idea Adam is one of THOSE GUYS who carry around a synthesizer in their cars in case of a lonely moment.  I apologize and at this moment disown him.  Then again, looking at the photo of his pencil troll doll hair and missing teeth, I’m so glad a park ranger didn’t come through the lot and mistake him for a creepy local weirdo.

Lance & Lauer, O'Grady & Farrar Welcome To The Freak Shoulder Fraternity - PT Discount ID Cards Below

It’s a memory I repress.  I can’t quite remember when I got indoctrinated to the Freak Shoulder Fraternity.  I’m thinking in ’06, nearly three years to this day in fact.  That’s the photo of my freak shoulder there.  The photo was taken yesterday.  Still ugly, I know.  The diagnosis, a 3^rd or 4^th degree separation.  Surgery would’ve been for cosmetic reasons only.  So now I walk around with one arm slightly longer than the other.  No biggie.  Lance and Matt (Tyler Farrar and Stuart O'Grady too) should know it still works okay, but smarts now and then.  Although the chick appeal is gone.  My wife now gets a heebie jeebie shiver when she runs her hands across my shoulders and hits the freak bump.  It happened while pre-riding the Ohio Valley Spring Road Race Series course at Hueston Woods.  My left foot pulled out of my cheapo Ritchey pedal.  Knee hit handlebars.  Bars crossed up.  I drilled myself into the pave’ at probably close to 30mph.  It had to be the most painful injury ever.  I back that up with a torn ACL, a broken wrist, a meniscus tear and a childhood gash to the forearm from a metal file. 

Yesterday we heard the news of Lance Armstrong breaking his collarbone in Spain and TV's Matt Lauer injuring his shoulder doing a dodge the deer dive.  Today Lance and Lauer, O'Grady and Farrar, we welcome you with our open freak arms to The Freak Shoulder Fraternity.  Enjoy the Percocet while it lasts.  Print, clip and use your ID card (below) for great discounts at physical therapy clinics across the world.  We’ll see you in six to eight weeks.

 If you’re a member of the Freak Shoulder Club and would like to share your freakiness with the world and get your very own nifty ID card, email freaky photo proof here and we'll add you to the honor roll.

How To: Take An Austin Powers Style Natural Correcto

The light at Camargo & Miami in Madiera turned red.  I zipped across anyway.  I had to take a natural.  Sorry, but the laws of nature supersede traffic law.  Right officer?  I knew this ride wasn’t going to let up for the next hour and the morning coffee was percolating.  Between here and the halfway sprint, I could foresee no other points where a pause in the action and a good pee place would intersect.  Figuring I had somewhere between 30 and 45 seconds of red light before the group would get back to business, I thought I’d be able to duck behind BioWheels bike shop, take care of business and either jump right back with the group as it passed or, if this were to be a grande natural, at the very least I’d catch ‘em on the descent.  I chased the group in full-on flat-backed heart grabbing donkey wheezing mode for the next 10 miles dangling between 50 and 300 meters.  I finally caught on in Loveland, only to get popped seconds later as the group punched a big climb at 23mph. Then I spent the next 5-7 miles chasing with a teammate who also got dropped on the climb all because I had to take a pee.  Have you seen my critical mistake?

I didn’t tell anyone I was going to take a natural.  What a doof I am.  Essentially I limited my potential bridge back on posse to the handful of people who saw me head up to the shop.  I had four teammates in the bunch, a few good friends, one of the Two John’s, and a bunch of others that know me well enough to give me the courtesy of holding up a bit for me to catch on.  Here’s what my antic’s looked like to the five people who saw me.  F*&%!  Joe just ran the red light.  He’s headed up to the bike shop.  Look like he’s probably ditching his knee warmers or something.  Oop, light’s green, let’s go.  At this point there are no thoughts of Joe, because the group of 25 or so is bombing down a hill at 30+mph, navigating a notoriously slippery set of angled railroad tracks followed by a 90 degree corner at the bottom.

Here’s what it was like from my perspective.  Oop, can’t pee here, looks like that’s wood for the shop renovation.  How ‘bout here?  Nope that’s Mitch’s car.  Can the neighbors see?  Who cares?  Get the front of your bibs down.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.   Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.  Did the light turn yet?   Ahhhhh. Ahhhhhhh. Ah.  Ah.  Ah.  Fhew!  Tuck in under jersey.  Pick up bike.  Clip in.  Where’d they go?  Oh F%^*!  They’re halfway down the hill.  Tuck and hammer.  Oh Sh&* the tracks.  Jam on brakes.  Cross.  Back up to speed.  Crap they’re around the corner.  Hammer.  Just 50 more meters.  Ugh, little bastard hill.  Dammit 100 meters. 

Like the directions on a shampoo bottle, so it went for the next 10-15 miles.  Close gap, stuck at light, hammer, repeat.  I finally caught the group in the next town, unfortunately 10 seconds before the major climb of the ride.  Still trying to choke back my heart & lungs, I was waxed and off the back in 20 seconds flat.  Here I went again, but this time I had the company of another dropped rider.  We tried in vain to catch on for the next 5-7 miles, but eventually the group got out of sight, we figured we missed a turn, and gave up the gootch. 

So to save you from making the same mistake, here’s how to take a Natural Correcto:

Step 1: Tell group you’re going to go, making this point right in front of the leader or veteran riders.  Maybe say something like, “Hey I’m gonna zip up here and take a pee.” 

Step 2: Ask a teammate to hold up to help you bridge back on. Maybe say something like, “Can you Andy, Brian and Matt hold up a bit to help me bridge back on, thanks man.”

Step 3: Take natural as quick as possible as waiting friends or teammates dangle off the back of the group.

Step 4: Time trial to your waiting teammates or friends and work together to bridge the rest of the way

Step 5: Return the favor later by keeping a teammate out of the wind or offering up half a Clif bar.