Liability

A few nights ago, we were entertaining casual company, trading stories and drinking things. And when I got to a story about driving a snowmobile 65mph across a frozen lake I said something in Kay's direction akin to "You probably wouldn't like this, but..."

Much to her credit, she later took me aside and gave me crap about my aside. Lots of "Look" and "I'm not that kind of girlfriend", lots of "I'm never going to tell you what to do."
She was right of course, to be miffed that I just assumed her role as such, and I appreciated what she said greatly.

But I appreciated last night even more greatly.

Out on a ride around the borough (which would culminate in a wonderful roof party in Williamsburg), I was riding on my bicycle somewhat... stupidly. I was riding faster than I was paying attention, and I found myself faced with a car. So, like any fast-acting limbic system, I jammed on the brakes. On my new, more powerful brakes.
The front wheel locked up, and the whole bike kept rolling around it. that is to say, as I quickly dimished my speed from 20mph to zero, the rear of the bike bucked up and over the front, and I, still clipped into the pedals, went with it. I hit the ground, somehow, still half clipped into the now-inverted bike, and over the next few nanoseconds unclipped and summersaulted forward, ending up in a somewhat lounging position on the blacktop, the bike aside me. Testament to the borough, the car peaced out. I took a breath, stood up, brushed myself off, noting the one gash on my elbow, picked my bike off the deck, clipped in, rode off, both myself and the bike in far better condition than we'd any right to be.

So anyway, I get back home later that night and relate this to Kay. She has that look that appears on one's face when they eat horseraddish or their own previously-spoken words. Thinks for a second, and then very diplomatically just goes, "so, how many more things are you going to crash?"