CALL ME SNAKE

I was racing on my bike to get to a meeting with a real estate lawyer to talk about construction plans next door. The guy charged $250 an hour, and I didn’t want to be late. He was racing on his bike to classes at MIT–or something at MIT–and, being an overachiever, he didn’t want to be late either. As a result, we crashed into each other at high speed on the corner of Mass. Ave. and Memorial Drive and ended up in a tangle on the pavement. I immediately asked him if he was OK, and he immediately asked me if I was OK. (I was OK but started to think I’m getting too old for bike crashes which is supposed to be something that kids do, not people like me.) He was OK too. Then we had to separate the two bikes. Mine did not move at all until I realized the handlebars and wheel had somehow twisted around more than 360 degrees. Once I turned it back, the wheels turned somewhat. I’m not sure about the other guy’s bike but I didn’t have time to worry about that. I had to get to my meeting and the meter–at $250 an hour–was already running.