Holy crap, I crashed.

I know I broke too hard, but I can't believe what just happened. Riding down Geary Blvd at about 40 mph, I hit the brakes too hard coming up to a red light. I guess the roads were a little slick from the dense fog that night. But suddenly my heart expanded in fear, and I saw the road upside down and then right side up as I felt myself tumble over and over, landing in a sitting position. My scooter had flailed out and slid about 30 feet away from me into the intersection. I sat with my hands on my helmet, knowing how bad it was, but knowing within 5 seconds that I was okay. Then realizing that my friend Abby was driving in a car right behind me and that she would be there soon. I heard a man's voice and a hand on my shoulder. "Are you okay??" I stood up, knowing I had to. Someone else standing at the bus stop went into the road to direct traffic around me. Another guy, who rode motorcycles, went for my bike. I felt my arms burning from road rash and my back hurting from the twisting, but most of all I felt my knees shaking violently as the adrenaline pulsed into every crevice of my being as I walked my bike to the side of the road. "What happened!?!? All of a sudden you flew off the bike. You looked like a stunt double, you took the fall perfectly." Thanks motorcycle man. "What happened!? It looked like a bolt of lightening hit your bike! I've never seen anything like it!" Thanks old lady. "I know a lot of people asked you if you're okay, but are you ok?" Yes, I'm okay, nice woman. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." I'm okay Abby. It's okay.

I'm going to wake up tomorrow with a bruise the size of texas on my thigh and my arms and knees are bloody and covered in road rash. But, if it had to happen, it all happened so perfectly.