Friends who worry about my health often warn me that riding a motorcycle will lead to injuries.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve suffered a number of injuries — not one related to riding a Harley-Davidson.

  1. While photographing a donkey basketball game last month a well-placed kick from a jackass left a deep leg bruise;
  2. Last week, something in my back popped while I brushed my teeth and learned over the bathroom sink. Walked around in pain for four days;
  3. Now I’m walking on two broken toes — caused by a collision with a piece of furniture in the dark in our bedroom.

Yep. I ride a motorcycle and I get hurt a lot. Of course, not one of the injuries is related to actually riding the bike but my friends are right. I ride and I get hurt. The pattern is long and ugly:

  1. Before the snow melted from the winter that never ended earlier this year, I slipped on the ice while trying to walk down the driveway and reinjured an already bad ankle;
  2. Last summer I hit a mole hole while mowing on the side of the hill that masquerades as our front yard and jumped off the John Deere as it rolled over. Landed on a rock and busted a rib;
  3. Messed up my knee when a high school football player mowed me down on the sidelines while I photographed a game;
  4. An errant basketball left me with a bloody nose while photographing another high school game;
  5. Broke my foot after stepping in a hole while covering FloydFest a few years back.

Yep. Must be the motorcycle’s fault.

Or maybe I should stay on the bike. Life seems safer there.

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