Saturday morning we dropped the kids off with their Grammy and headed out to do some local ATV trail maintenance. I was excited because I’ve never ridden that trail because parts are pretty non-kid-friendly. Yay, I get to play with the grown-ups!
As the day went on it, it got hotter and hotter and the riding was slow. Go a hundred feet, stop and prune trees. Go two hundred feet, stop and prune back brush. I decided I couldn’t take the sweat and itching any more, so I took my helmet off. It took me a few minutes to use the chin strap to fasten it to my machine so it wouldn’t bounce off, and then I pulled my gloves on.
But then I thought about a friend of mine who took her helmet off a few years back because she was hot. The accident was horrific and it’s pretty amazing she’s okay. Of course, having thought about that, I was then jinxed and—with much swearing—put my helmet back on.
We’re still not sure exactly what happened. I was picking my way down a steep, rocky hill and—we think—I leaned foward to see the front end and the machine either dropped off a rock or the handlebars jerked, throwing me into the throttle which caused the machine to launch itself forward and me right off the machine.
I remember telling myself to follow my husband’s line because if the King Quad went, the Rubicon can follow. Then it goes pretty black. I remember the roar of the engine because it was in low gear and didn’t like full throttle, and I remember screaming, then my head exploding.
Then my husband was there (while the King Quad drifted down the hill because he just jumped off of it—isn’t he sweet?) and the shockiness in my head faded. I think it’s funny how men just want to drag you to your feet because if you can stand up you must be okay. It took me a minute to calm him down. *g*
Injury report: Where my left thumb joins my hand is skinned and bruised. My right foot is bruised and puffy (we’re not sure if it got caught between the Rubicon and a rock, or if the Rubicon ran it over). My right shoulderblade has a lovely bruise that looks like a big, blurry seagull tattoo. My stomach…*winces* At the time it seemed like the rubber hand grip had simply caught and dragged as I went over, giving me lovely rubber-grip–burn right above my belly button. But over the next 24 hours the bruising appeared and I’ve got a grapefruit-sized mass of red rash and black bruising that’s quite sore. Many miscellaneous bruises and scrapes.
And my pretty pink helmet has a wicked dent in the back, right side. Judging by the impact—which my husband heard over the King Quad’s big bore engine while twenty or thirty yards down the hill—and the dent, the best case scenario had I not been wearing it would have been a ride in the DHART chopper to Dartmouth-Hitchcock.
So I’m a hurtin’ puppy right now, but at least the only permanent damage is that my pretty pink helmet has to be destroyed.
And how was your weekend?