President Biden falls off his bike and the media goes ballistic.
Granted, he is old in years, what, 79?
Granted, he appears to be older in physical and mental status; what, mumbling and jumbling?
But falling off his bike? Should be no big deal. I’m glad he gets out to ride.
It’s easy to fall off your bike; we have all done it a time or two. Why, I’m 83 and ride to breakfast every Saturday morning with the guys. About 27 miles round trip, depending on the trail we take. We try to stay off the streets.
And I have fallen off my bike—lots of times.
Riding the Fullerton loop a couple years ago, I got mired in the sand on a downhill run and flipped head over heels with the bike following me. I landed on my back and, still holding the handlebars, I guided the bike over my head, past me, and it landed further down the hill. My biking buddy thought it was funny.
I got caught in the gutter one morning and ended up in the hospital for X Rays, nothing broken except my ego.
Last year at 83, I fell face-first onto the trail. Going from extremely bright sun into a dark tunnel, my front wheel caught in a grove and I went over the handlebars, hitting the pavement face first. Fortunately my helmet visor took the brunt of the fall, probably saving me from a broken neck. Paramedics took me to the hospital and I stayed overnight while doctors, nurses and finally, a plastic surgeon fixed my face. Nothing else was broken—other than my pride.
Ok, I don’t ride the hills of Fullerton alone anymore but I still join the breakfast boys each Saturday as we ride the Santa Ana River trail, south to iHop or north to Fantasy Café.
We have all fallen off our bikes a time or two.
Leave Biden be. He has bigger problems.