I messed up. Not really, I did things as I've always done, but this time things went wrong. I was cleaning the chain of my 636 and the rag caught and pulled my hand in. It fell on me and when I picked it up, I noticed my thumb hurt. Now, I've had the feeling that this bike was beginning to spiritually hate me. Ever since I pulled it off the track I have had problems with it. About 5 minutes after I put street plastics back on it fell over off the kickstand somehow and smashed all bodywork. Later the battery went completely dead without warning and it sat for a few years. Some friends asked to pull it out and fix it up to ride, a situation that ended in us no longer being friends. The battery that they replaced died completely after only 3 months, and had to be replaced again. Corey took the bike for a few months and it treated him well. I rode it once to work and the next day went to clean the chain as it had be very neglected. That was the last straw. I need to get rid of the bike, it no longer wants to be a part of me, and I need to respect that.
Claire has been taking care of me. She took me to the hospital and put up with me bossing her around while getting there. She held my good hand while they patched me up and has been tending to me since we've been back. I don't know what I would do without her anymore. I love you, Claire...
Now, I'm a little bit shorter in the thumb. I'm waiting for it to heal up so I can start learning how to use it again. I'm not going to let it slow me down at all or keep me from doing anything.
