On Saturday I was riding with a collection of other cyclists to Llandudno from Manchester. A nice 100 miler was promised, and despite a bit of a headwind and a few spots of rain early on we’d covered about 35 miles. We had stopped at Marbury Park for a coffee and regrouped after a couple of faffage moments and I rode at the back with a group that needed a navigator ( not many had working garmins, but those of us that did were kinda spread out between the riders)
Having got the group up some complicated bits I left the rear group and decided to catch up with my mates in the next group up, I remember being way marked by the ride organizer onto a narrow, traffic free lane at Norley, and next thing I remember is being picked up off the Tarmac several hundred yards down the lane. It was obvious my collar bone was busted, my helmet smashed, my head bleeding, but absolutely nothing to show why I had come off. I have absolutely no memory of the incident, and the guys that picked me up tell me I was out cold.
Anyway, let’s hear it for the good old NHS. That was Saturday at 1.30 pm, and by Teatime on Sunday I was being discharged from the Countess Cheshire hospital having been plated up by an upper limb expert.
Will I ever remember what happened? The bike has a damaged left shifter and right seat stay, and all my injuries…hip, shoulder and head, are on the right, so it looks like I high-sided on a perfectly straight piece of road.