"7 Stitches and the Dumb Things Dave Does on a Bike"

It was sometime in October of 2004 and I was living in Boulder, bussing and biking it to UCD for my BFA degree in Photography. The fall semester was packed with 15 credits and twcie a week I had very long days. I would get up around 6AM to be ready to get the bus that left at 7 and arrive in LoDo around 8. Class started at 8:30 but we could get in at 8 to work on projects and check e-mail. I had a class at noon and then my last class was 7-9:45PM in the drawing studio. If I got out of that class on time I could catch the 10PM bus back to Boulder, then with a short bike ride I was home by 11:15 or so.

I don't recall exact details or reasons why Mike and I were drinking beers and throwing back whiskey. Probably because we are guys and felt like we were still living in Vail. I remeber getting to bed by midnight and waking up with a moderately shitty feel. I spent 45 minutes on the bus trying to read and put my day together, figuring out how to be most productive and agonizing over the 16 hour day that lay ahead.

I got off the bus at 15th and Wynkoop and started pedaling my standard route to school. I approaced the intersection, a "T" that contained 4 lanes of traffic traveling from my right to left and I was on the vertical part of the "T" that is a two lane multi-directional street. 3 of the 4 lanes were packed with cars at a standstill. I pedaled through them and as I reached the 3rd lane I looked behind the big white van and saw nothing so I proceeded.
Have you ever had an out of body experience? Neither have I and this was nothing like it. However, in a split second I heard the tires skreech as my head whipped to my right. I didn't say to myself, instead myself said to me, "You're FUCKED!" Then I replied, "I know."

There was a little Honda Accord too low for me to see. She was in the 4th lane, the turning lane that was almost empty and moving quickly. I woke up on the grass in between a tree and a street sign that managed to stay out of my flight path. I stood up and walked around in circles, running my hand through my hair to check on the reason for the pain in my head. It had been a long, long time since I've felt coarse hair interlaced with blood...lot's of it too. It's a feeling that is hard to describe. The blood starts to congeal right away, and the hair around the wound gets sticky. You know what has happened, so you pull your hand in front of your face. Based upon three bloody fingers, a palm full of blood and no signs of broken bones or any other bleeding I figured I was going to be ok.

I think Homer and I have the same affliction, it's called Homer Simpson Syndrome. We were both born with an extra thick skull. Did you see that episode? Dr. Hibert said, "I could wallop you all day long with this surgical 2x4 and it wouldn't do anything ha, ha, ha." As the youngest of 4 my mother was pretty desensitized to my accidents after the anxiety Kathy, Mike and Rich put her through. I'll have to check with those 3; I don't think any of them received any kind of laceration to their mellon. I find it hard to believe that as the only family with a pool and a trampoline on our block we were not struck with more injuries or lawsuits. The layout of the yard only permitted for the trampoline to be placed next to the pool. Does anyone see where this is going????

Dave's ER History
1. Brother Mike and brother-in-law Gary were pushing me on the tire swing in our backyard. Not sure of my age or the number of stitches I recieved but I was young. They were trying to see how high they could push me and kept pushing harder and harder. I had my legs through the center of the tire and I was holding on to the rope. The last push was too much and my skinny arms couldn't take the G-force. I let go. The back of my head bounced along the ground that was full of tree roots. "Hamot Medical Center, can I help you? Yes Mrs. Engle, bring him in. The staff hasn't seen him in a few weeks and were wondering if he was alright."
2. I walked next door to say hi to my "friends". I can't remeber who the kid was but he cracked me in the head with the claw end of the claw hammer.
3. High school was probably the most dangerous time in my life, or the years in Vail, or the summer of '82...let's just say it's always dangerous for me. It was a fantastic weekend loaded with go-karts, pool cues, beers, one really fast Camaro and of course...stitches in Dave's head.

To be continued.