Cards Bike one year later, FORR Leather and lace ... - The Biking Life

Getting Back on the (Iron) Horse
by Cathie D.
I sat in my driveway on my bike (Stella), engine
running in neutral, looking down the 100 feet of
gravel that led to my street. About 20 minutes must
have gone by as I repeated to myself, “Just drop it in
gear, Just drop it in gear.” This is something I had
done unconsciously countless times before, but this
time I had to talk myself through: “Just drop it in
gear.” Finally, with the clunk of the bike dropping
into gear, off I went. As I rode past neighbors in
their yards, they looked at me strangely. Maybe it
was because sounds of joy were coming from me so
loudly—sounds I didn’t know I was capable of
making. By the time I hit fourth gear, I do believe
there were tears of joy blowing off my cheeks.
This all happened just one week short of a year since
I had last been on Stella. It was the longest she had
sat unused since I had her. It was one week short of
a year from June 21, 2003—the day of the accident
that took off my right leg just below the knee,
compound fractured both arms (they now have metal
plates in them), fractured my pelvis, and broke my
right femur in three pieces. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t
just the sounds of joy coming from me that made my
neighbors look at me so strangely.
Now, at this point I have to tell you that when the
doctor handed me my fake leg for the first time, I
thought since I would be spending a lot of
personally intimate time alone with this thing, I
should name her. I named her Emma, because I
would say, “I Em-ma gonna make it!” Still, believe
me there were days when I wondered, “Am I going
to make it?”
I rode a few times up and down my street to get the
feel of Stella (since she also had some new body
parts from the wreck), and then I hit the highway.
Going through the gears and hitting 70 mph was a
feeling I can’t put into words. Since I have, in my
lifetime, done my fair share of mind-altering drugs
and am a woman who enjoys a drink now and then, I
can tell you that the high I felt as Stella, Emma, and
I headed north on Highway 61 was total euphoria. It
was better then any chemically enhanced high I’d
ever experienced. Yippee! What a feeling of
accomplishment! I wish everyone could feel that
without having to go through the dismemberment
part.
June 21, 2003
The day of the ride, a beautiful Saturday morning,
was to be the beginning of a new life for me. My
marriage of 27 years was coming to a sad end after
an emotionally draining 18-month separation, and it
was time to make a new life and move on. As I was
leaving my house, my soon-to-be Ex called to play
one last head game with me. I told him that I was
going on with my life; that I was young, healthy, and
had two legs; and that the next time I saw him we’d
be divorced. Looking back, I wonder why I made
that statement about two legs—was it a
premonition?