Pain in My Ass

Day 60

It's raining this morning. We're completing this trip as hurricane season revs up; not ideal for motorcycle travel. We get an early start this morning, hoping to get away from this rain as we ride south to Floyd, the very first place we stayed on this adventure.

We enjoy the free breakfast from the hotel very much. So much, in fact, that I pack us lunch from it, too (mix the bacon into the cream cheese that comes in the little packages, and use it as a spread). We're on the road by 9 am, excited that in a few miles we'll pick up the Parkway and ride it all the way to Floyd.

Soon, we're in a downpour. Stupidly, I decided to take my rain pants off about 5 minutes down the road while I was getting my sunglasses out that I had forgotten. I mistook a break in the clouds for clearing skies. In a few seconds, I'm drenched, but I'm not cold, so I figure I'll just go with it and dry out later.

In Fort Royal, we miss a turn (the road signs are confusing). Realizing our mistake, The Pirate begins to navigate a U-turn using the entrance of a parking lot. At first glance, this seemed fine, but as we got closer we see that about two feet of the entrance of the parking lot is concrete, concrete that is slick from the rain. Already into the turn, the Girl almost makes it when she begins to slide and spin. She whips us around 180 degrees, and then her back tire flies out from under us. Though we are falling to the left, I am thrown off the back so fast that I land hard on my tail bone and right butt cheek. The Pirate falls into my lap and nearly somersaults backward. The Girl falls on top of our left legs, still running.

We both immediately check in with each other if we're OK, and then kill the motor. I can sense that my ass feels uncomfortably numb where it slammed into the pavement, but I think I can stand. We crawl out from under the bike, pick her back up on a three count, and push her out of the road. I'm shaking, so we hold each other for a long while. The Pirate kisses the top of my head. He's worried, he asks if I want to go to the urgent care clinic down the road. I am shaken up, but I don't think I need attention.

We get back on the road, and as the numbness subsides, I can feel that my coccyx really hit hard. It's starting to hurt, and throb. I make up my mind not to panic, and to continue a “systems check” as we ride, monitoring my body for anything serious. The real obvious suck of this situation is that I fell on my ass, and now I have to sit on it for the next two days. I manage to sit forward on my thighs, but that means I can't lean on anything. This will be a long day.

We finally get to the Parkway, only to discover that in Virginia it's the “Skyline” and it costs a motorcycle $10 to ride it. Great. Fine. We hand over our $10, and then the Girl won't start. We've been running her headlight all morning because of the rain, and now because of her bad stator, the battery has died. At this point, it's official, it's one of those days.

The Pirate rolls the Girl forward and starts her, and swings back around to pick me up. We head south on the Skyline, catching a rare view here and there, but mostly looking at clouds. As it's name suggests, the Skyline runs the ridges, hoisting us up into freezing cold, wet, gray clouds. At times, we can see the Shenandoah Valley to the west, which looks sunny. We decide to get down there, and out of these $10 clouds. First we stop at a rest area for our picnic lunch and to add some layers. The Pirate also insists on checking me out, so we go in to the restrooms and he looks me over. We determine that I am banged up, but nothing is severe.

We began this day looking forward to a lovely ride down the parkway, and we end up on I-81, the granddaddy of awful interstates. We decided to get out of the mountains, where it would be warmer, and on a direct route, since we're both feeling the accident as the days wears on. The Pirate's arm is hurting, and also his left leg where the Girl landed. I am at the height of discomfort since my little back seat pretty much demands that I sit on my tailbone. The Pirate intervenes and, despite my initial protests, gives me a Percocet, a scary opium based pain killer that he promises will have me feeling better and singing Jimi Hendrix in my head in no time.

It works. I'm relaxed and I can endure the rest of the ride. Soon we are in Roanoke where we get off the highway and on to good old 221. We ride this through the gorgeous countryside of Virginia all the way to Floyd. We decide on cheap Mexican for dinner, a very specific genre which we have not had since we left 60 days ago. It's good, especially on drugs.

Soon, we are back at Lach's place. The flowers in bloom are different from when we were here last. The crickets are singing, and the katydids join in once the sun is down. It's lovely to see this place in essentially two seasons. This place has become a sanctuary of recuperation for us; last time we were here we had colds, and now we've had a bike accident. We open all of the windows and let the cool night air come in, and then we settle onto the giant couch and enjoy the hell out of Netflix On Demand.