... me, that is. Had my first crash in about 4,000 miles yesterday, and it was one of those sheer-stupidity-bordering-on-insanity moves. I was 35 miles into a 45-mile ride, had hit a two-lane parkway with a huge shoulder. With the wind at my back, I hit a nice little groove, pedaling to a song in my head, going about 25, daydreaming and looking ... down? Just happened to look up in time to see a broken-down car looming in front of me -- not enough time to veer completely out of the way. So I hit it, fortunately flying over it and onto the breakdown lane and NOT into 65mph traffic. Somehow cracked both knees, got a bit of road rash and once again beat up my poor girl (bike). It must have looked hilarious to passing traffic when it happened.

So I had a nice, slow, painful 10-mile ride back home, with the bike groaning and grinding the whole way, chanting, "I'm a moron, I'm a moron" the whole way. I'm actually a damned lucky moron, considering how it could have turned out. So, I'm icing my knees and promising never to fall asleep at the wheel again. All it takes is one stupid move...