1) I hurt my back. I’ve thrown out my back a little less than once a year for the past seven or eight years. Normally I’m in a lot of discomfort and have limited mobility for a day or two and then it loosens up over the next few days, returning to what I call normal in a week or two. I usually take some Motrin and pretty much let the problem work itself out. But I screwed it up worse than usual three weeks ago (on Sunday the 15th) and was still extremely hobbled on Tuesday so I hobbled to a doctor on Tuesday, right after the inauguration.
He prescribed muscle relaxants and sent me hobbling to 13th St for x-rays. I saw the doctor again on Monday the 23rd. The x-ray results were back and reported that I have some disk degeneration between a few of my lower vertebrae. I still hadn’t gotten back much mobility by this time and my positioning was limited to:
A) Lying on my back;
B) Lying on my side;
C) Crouching or squatting for short periods of time; and
D) Standing/walking crookedly for short distances.
I took a video of myself walking in my apartment on the 23rd. This was eight days after I hurt myself, in the evening, after having had the full day to loosen it up. You can imagine how much fun I had each time I had to go out to see a doctor or to see some pizza or whatever I had to see, shuffling through the Slope oozing pure sex like this.
On Tuesday, I met with a couple of physicians specializing in pain management and got a cortisone injection after a quick inspection. When he was done giving the shot, the doctor asked “how are you doing?” and I said “feeling better already” which was meant as something like a stupid joke but ended up being just about true. I walked out of the place way easier than I'd walked in, and had a good walk back to my apartment. I was disappointed to read on the Googler that patients get kind of a false sense of almost-immediate relief from the local anesthetic provided by the needle that precedes the one with the cortisone, but I’ve felt pretty awesome since the night I got the shot.
I was able to go back to work the next day, actually went back to work the day after that, and have shot #2 scheduled for tomorrow. I also got an MRI last Monday and have delivered a copy of the scans to the cortisone doctor, who should also have a full interpretation of the results from a radiologist by now. The biggest thing for tomorrow is to ask the couple of outstanding questions I have (“outstanding” meaning “still hanging out there,” although, in all honesty, they are very excellent questions) and find out what the doctors think will help fix this problem in the long term – physical therapy, stretching, strengthening, yoga, acupuncture, hypnosis, soapy Asian massage (something I saw on the internet once), etc.
2) I got my bike back! My mechanic called to say it was ready the week before last, but I wasn’t physically ready to ride just yet. As soon as I thought it possible that I was, I made arrangements to pick it up and called a car to take me over to Williamsburg. It’s got a new battery and a new ignition system (and possibly new spark plugs) and rode beautifully back to Brooklyn. It was in the 30s and windy that day and I made the ride unnecessarily long by avoiding the BQE (nervous to get back on that puppy before I knew the bike was up to it) and then by getting all kinds of lost (this happens to me automatically). It was warmer on Sunday and I had a nice ride around the neighborhood and then I parked down the block near my home.
When I went to ride again this most recent Saturday, my motorcycle was on the sidewalk next to where I’d parked it on the street and cars were parked close to bumper to bumper in the area. Don’t ask me how or why or by whom my bike was moved – I don’t know. My best guess is that a strong asshole (maybe two) saw what would be a parking space if only a motorcycle weren’t parked where it was so they moved it for me. Or maybe someone is so serious about street cleaning that they saw it on the street on Monday when the street cleaner was scheduled to come through so they moved it in the interest of maintaining a clean street. In which case it's probably the same neighbor who once left a note taped to my windshield urging me to comply with the alternate-side parking laws so the street cleaners can do their job for all of us.
I noticed a weird thing which was that there was a hose hanging down in front of the motor and behind the front tire and reaching nearly to the ground; I’d never noticed this before and the first thing I thought was that the asshole who had moved my bike had also cut a line for some reason. I tried the ignition and it started immediately and sounded great so I figured I’d just keep an eye on the brakes and steering and engine heat level for a while once I started riding (note: this storyline does not get any more dramatic; I did what I figured I would do and everything is fine).
Anyway, the sidewalk had a lot of ice and snow on the edge near the road, so I went back to my apartment and got my shovel and garden hoe (insert hoe joke here) and chipped and shoveled a path to the road. A photographer with a big video camera rig stopped by and asked if I minded if he filmed me and I said “yeah, I think I do mind…thanks for asking though, I appreciate it.” I got on my bike and straddle-walked it off the curb and into the street, returned my tools to the apartment, and went for a nice ride around the neighborhood. I met up with my friend Jason, who knows quite a bit about cars and how they are built and fixed, and we developed a couple of theories about the hose’s purpose, all of which can be summarized by saying “since it’s running fine, it’s fine, and it probably just used to be clamped or tied up to something, but came undone when They were moving the bike.” I’m very satisfied and comfortable with this conclusion.
Two other semi-interesting factoids from that ride:
A) As I came down a one-way street and slowed to a stop at a stoplight on 7th Ave, I was greeted by a retard turning the wrong way onto said one-way street. Not really too big a deal since I was already almost stopped and had time to steer further to the right-hand side of the street to allow the retard to sort of pass me while I gestured questioningly and he gestured apologetically before nearly causing a couple more accidents backing back onto 7th Ave, but a memorable moment from the ride.
B) As long as I’ve had a license plate for my motorcycle, I’ve had it attached to one side of the mounting plate with a bolt and nut that I had lying around and to the other side of the plate with a twister tie from a box of trash bags (I always grab my trash bags by the sides and tie the two sides into a knot so I have a lot of twister ties lying around). When I picked up my bike from the mechanic, he gave me a nut and bolt to replace the twister ties. On Saturday, another biker pulled up alongside me on 7th Ave to tell me that my license plate was falling off. I pulled over and, sure enough, the nut and bolt that had replaced my twister ties had pulled through the metal of the plate, which was dangling by my original bolt, whose nut was still loosely attached. I tightened that nut up and pulled a small strip of old leather off one of my saddlebags to tie the other corner of the plate to the mount and rode to the hardware store. I bought a bolt, nut and washer and thought I had my problem fixed. When I finished my ride, the new hardware was nowhere to be found and the plate hung to the bracket only by my original bolt. The next day, I tied my plate back onto the mounting bracket with twist ties. 30 miles later, the plate hadn’t budged. It’s funny how things work out sometimes.
I’ll pause here to allow Trevor to take a few deep breaths and get back his composure after giggling hysterically through a paragraph that contains the words “mounting,” “nut,” “dangling,” "hung," and “nut” again. Certain of my readers have some growing up left to do.
Yesterday, the temperature was supposed to get into the mid-50s in Brooklyn so I planned a ride to Coney Island. I Google-mapped a route and wrote it down on paper. I removed the liner from what is becoming a very beloved motorcycle jacket. I filled my bucket with a little 409 all-purpose cleaner and a lot of hot water and wiped my bike down with a small towel to remove all the salt and other road dirt that had accumulated on it, mostly on the exhaust pipes and the wheels. I taped my directions to my tank and headed out.
The ride to Coney Island was perfect. It was sunny and warm and traffic was light. The Belt/Shore/Leif Erickson Parkway runs south along the western coast of Brooklyn so I had great water scenery to my right. Everything on my motorcycle felt tight and smooth and solid. I got up into 6th gear and up to about 70 mph for the first time and felt like the bike had plenty of engine left. And I didn’t get lost.
I made my way down to Surf Ave, rode past Nathan’s and then doubled back to park near the pier. I said hello to a couple of grizzled old bikers standing next to gorgeous, fully dressed Indian bikes and then took a walk and a few pictures:
Then I headed back toward the Slope to make a 3:00 bocce ball competition at Union Hall.
In summary: my back was hurt but now feels great. Riding the motorcycle doesn’t aggravate it at all; in fact, I think my riding position mirrors the natural curve of my spine pretty nicely. My bike is back from the shop and is riding noticeably better than it has in the time that I’ve owned it. I’ve been teased with warm weather and the riding opportunities that spring will bring. And the best way to attach license plates to motorcycles is with twist ties.
1 comment:
Love the photos and video!
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