Hey, I’m back!
Aren’t you thrilled?!?
[Oh well, looks like I’ve already failed at my resolution to freshen up my pop culture references.]
Shortly before the holiday recess I received a press release about an exciting new calendar year called “2026.” At the time I was unable to share any details because it was under media embargo, but now that it’s out and most of us have downloaded the firmware I’m free to share my first impressions. So far 2026 is a lot like 2025, and it retains most of the familiar features, such as daily sunrises and sunsets*:
*[Sunset, 1/1/26. Feature not available to users on the North and South Poles.]
According to the press release these celestial events now come with a 40% increase in lateral stiffness and vertical compliance–though in practice you’re unlikely to notice, and at this point you’re probably better off just waiting until 2028 to upgrade, since rumor has it they’ll be adding a whole extra day:
This will eliminate that jarring change in cadence you currently experience when you shift from February to March.
As for the conclusion of 2025, sometimes you reach the end of the year with both hands reaching skyward in triumph:
Other times you’re defiant and just want to leave it all behind you:
And then there are those years you come skidding across the finish line, like this:
This last scenario, quite literally, was the case for me. On Friday the 19th I bid you all a-doo, and by Sunday the 21st I was delighting in an unseasonably warm day astride the Cervino:
That morning, I’d ridden over the George Washington Bridge and onto route 9W, which is the New York City metropolitan area’s Fredly Superhighway. With the bike running smoothly, the open road ahead, and the holidays laid out before me like a sumptuous fortnight-long buffet, I would describe my state of mind at this moment as “blissed out.” Heading north, I had a choice to make: keep going straight and eventually make my way back home via the Tappan Zee Mario Cuomo Bridge, or else turn onto the so-called “River Road.” The former choice entailed a longer but flatter ride, whereas the latter would be more physically challenging yet get me home a little earlier. After some deliberation I opted for more hills and more family time, and changed course accordingly.
Those of you familiar with River Road of course know the fabled “Ranger Station climb,” where the CRCA’s most competitive Freds do endless hill repeats like Lycra-clad Sisyphuses. (At least when they’re not Zwifting.) Entering River Road from its northern terminus, I immediately began descending this stretch, as I have hundreds of times before. Now, I’m not a timid descender, but I’m not a “balls-out” descender, either. If anything, I like to think I approach the act of riding a bicycle downhill quite sensibly, exercising due caution and keeping my balls nestled safely in my chamois where they belong. Still, the River Road climb is pretty steep, and one can reach Fred Woo-Hoo Speed here without much trouble:
In any event, I negotiated the descent responsibly and without incident. However, at the bottom of the hill, where the road levels out and you enter the traffic circle, my trusty (at least up until now) Cervino disappeared from beneath me–not in the sense that bike reviewers mean when they wax pretentious about the magical ride qualities of carbon fiber, but in the “Holy crap, where the hell did the bike go?!?” sense. All of this is to say that at one moment I was in complete control of my bicycle and myself, and at the next I was executing sort of a barrel roll during which time slowed and I was able to contemplate the irony of this state of affairs as I flew through the air.
Just before losing control I’d been aware of a couple of stopped riders standing nearby, and my main feeling was embarrassment as I hit the ground on my back, the bike now on top of me and still attached to my feet. I then slid along the road like butter on a hot skillet until I hit the retaining wall alongside of it. Here’s the bottom of the hill, and the wall that brought me to a halt is the one on the left:
Now I had not been turning, or braking, or fishing around in my pocket, or distracted in any way in the moments before I crashed. I was traveling straight, eyes forward, with both hands on the bars. However, River Road runs along the base of the New Jersey Palisades, which is the rock face you see here:
As a result, there’s often lots of debris in the road from the not-infrequent rockslides that occur. In fact, only a week or two before my crash, I’d witnessed a little mini rockslide right in front of me while descending this very stretch, which I managed to avoid. “Whoah, that could have been bad,” I’d thought to myself stupidly. So I’m reasonably sure that what happened is I hit a very small rock–or a piece of “gravel” if you will–and since I was on a primitive road bicycle with 25mm tires and not a dedicated gravel bike I lost control and down I went. In fact here’s some of that debris, which I was able to photograph once I recovered my phone:
That’s certainly enough to take you down if you’re on a vintage road bike with narrow bars and riding the undersized, over-inflated tires of yesteryear, which I most certainly was.
In the seconds after a crash, assuming you’re fortunate enough to be alive and conscious, you run sort of a system check to assess the damage to your person, and to my relief I found I was able to sit up and that I was more or less intact. Furthermore, as I mentioned, I was also able to recover my phone, which had ejected itself from my jacket pocket but had fortunately not traveled very far–and was also intact. However, as I went to use it, glops of blood appeared on the screen, and I realized I was bleeding from somewhere about the face or head.
As I blotted myself with my fleece hat and fumbled with the selfie camera to inspect the wound a park police officer appeared and informed me he was calling an ambulance. He was soon joined by another officer, and they both waited with me. I also texted my wife and did the old “Don’t worry, everything’s totally fine, but I had a little crash and can you come pick me up?” routine. To my relief I found I was able to stand up and walk around a bit. It was a lovely Sunday and there were lots of riders out, many of whom stopped to offer assistance or their well-wishings. They were all very nice, too, except for one guy who was a little weird and loitered on the periphery for awhile and made me think of that kid in the pilot goggles from “A Christmas Story” who’s way into the Tin Man:
Eventually the ambulance arrived, and after looking me over the paramedics agreed to leave me on the condition that I go somewhere to treat the gash just above my right eyebrow. Then my wife arrived in THE CAR THAT WE OWN and took me home. I got cleaned up and went to an urgent care where they informed me that the cut was so deep I’d need to go to an ER and have a plastic surgeon close it up or else I’d have to go through life with a horrible pirate scar that would cause people to run screaming and give children nightmares. So I headed to a nearby ER, where the doctor told me this was completely untrue and that the urgent care always pulls this crap. She then closed the cut up with ten neat little stiches and I went home and had dinner.
But enough about me. What you really want to know is…
How’s the bike?!?
Well, like me it was pretty banged up, but also like me fortunately nothing was irreparable:
I’m fairly certain the tubular tire came off as a result of the crash. This isn’t to say I doubt my own ineptitude. Could I have glued a tire so poorly it came off and caused me to crash? Absolutely. But it seems extremely unlikely to me that this would happen while I was traveling in a straight line. So I’m going to absolve myself and say the rolled tire was an effect and not a cause.
Then there’s the other question everybody asked me that day, and that you’re probably asking too:
Were you wearing a helmet?
No, I was not, and I will address that in an epilogue tomorrow. However, I will say that the cut was a neat slice almost certainly caused by the bicycle, and that it was in a location that would have been exposed to a sharp bicycle part with or without a helmet. Still, it would be disingenuous for me not to at least acknowledge the subject or to disclose whether or not my feelings concerning helmets have changed, and I most certainly will…but not right now.
In the meantime, I will say that I did and do feel extremely fortunate. Yes, even now I’m still pretty banged up, but not only was I able to enjoy the holidays with my family, but I was even able to get back on the bike after a couple of days, albeit gingerly. Plus, while getting injured is never fun, my injuries probably encouraged me to rest more than I would have otherwise, which I probably needed. Sometimes the universe needs to slap some sense into you, and that’s exactly what it did.
And finally, speaking of feeling fortunate, while I may not have replied to everyone individually, I am exceedingly grateful to those of you who made a little end-of-year-contribution further to my last post. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I have very generous readers, and I walked away from a high-speed crash. What more could I possibly want?
2026 is off to a fine start!