It was a dark and stormy night, (seriously it was). The clock read 9:00 pm. What terrors await those, unsuspecting in the night...?
I pulled into the garage...with my bicycle still on top of my car.
"HAVOC!" I knew a hideous mistake had just unfolded! For me, I was engulfed by the nightmarish like cataclysm that just played me for a doofus.
Sadly, it was not a parent's best moment. I was returning with my son from a Boy Scout Troop meeting when the accident happened. Distracted by a riveting Jurassic Park 3 movie conversation, I was unprepared for what was just about to unfold. At the moment of infamy... I uttered a response, primitive in simplicity, definite in meaning. A word censored in most English dictionaries, but international in understanding, banned on network television. So innocent, so spontaneous, so natural..."FART!" Only it wasn't the word "fart."
At first thought, all is TOAST! I cried in my mind a tiny bit. But, after a desperate inspection of the carnage, I realized only the bike rack took the brunt of the mayhem. Sickly, the rail on top of the rack took the worst of it...bent like a holiday ribbon! Everything else seemed OKAY. To put my mind at ease, I took the Prized Bianchi to my local shop for an inspection promptly the next day. Luckily all was well. The boyz at the shop were sympathetic but oddly not surprised...
Alas...I sit, vanquished and defeated. My reward, a twisted metallic carcass that once was a bike rack. I ride on – tenacious and undeterred. Yet I know, nothing will be the same as I recover from this... "SHOCK and AWE" of an ordeal.
The Horror, The Horror....