I am still flabbergasted.
It was a great post-work, 40+ mile ride, muchly in the dark. Near the end of it all, the manhole cover I rode over must have been a bit deeper set than it appeared.
I hit it, both my hands shot up off my handlebars, I swerved yet maintained immediate control likely due to being clipped in, and caught my handlebars with the insides of my wrists when my arms came back down. I'm amazed I didn't crash to the ground, am even more amazed I didn't crash into Matt, and am very appreciative that he is a totally unflappable rider.
I had been planning on posting either about my sweaty fast ride this past weekend or the pretty yet short fall rides I've taken around town, but really, all I can keep thinking is exactly what I said to Matt after disaster was averted: "Holy Sh*t!"
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