Gary decided to pull my bike out of the garage yesterday, just to clean it up for me in the hope that I'll actually use it sometime soon.
So, what do I do? Try to impress him. All goes well as I bomb up the lane, I turn it around (only just) and then come howling back down it again, feeling rather pleased with myself.
Then I do it ...
There's a grassy bank ...
I decide to use that bank to turn the bike around ...
I pedal up it ...
Turn too sharply ...
and
Fall off
Gary by this time is rolling around the floor laughing his head off, I'm rolling around the floor praying that I haven't broken my ankle (I distinctly heard three loud clicks as I fell on top of my ankle) and to be fair, Bec is trying to play vet (she doesn't do nurse, she wants to be a vet).
After several expletives under my breath (I swear I sent them to Gary via telepathy) he realises that, yes, I really am hurt, and no, we're not just talking pride here neither.
Now I have a lump the size of an egg on the top of my foot, just past my ankle, sigh ...
Aww, stop laughing!!!
3 comments:
Ouch!! That sounds painful. Have you had it checked? An x-ray might be a good idea if you actually heard cracking or popping. Hope you feel better soon!!!
Oh ouch. Did you get it checked out?
Nope, I've just strapped it up and kept my fingers crossed, Heather!!
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