I probably shouldn't skydive...

• My valiant attempt to effect my own demise last weekend having failed, I spent much of this week hobbled (but still going to work, as that's how I was raised).
• On level ground, my mountain bike's front brake cannot exert sufficient stopping power to somersault the bicycle.
• Running down a 5' dry creekbed embankment with a 41" wheelbase, 26" tyres, and a 42" saddle height topped with a ~198# rider, even a slight friction on the front brake is sufficient to initiate a forward rotation about the front axle.  You do the physics.
• In an instant, I'd slammed into the dirt with my right shoulder, forearm, and head.  Stunned, I lay in the dirt for a few seconds.  Daughter rushed over and handed me my eyeglasses, which had been thrown clear.
• I stood up, but for some time could not breathe.  Finally, I picked the bike up and walked it up the other embankment, then walked Daughter's bike across also, and then I brushed the dirt off my shirt and denim shorts.
• At a nearby convenience store, we got a sports drink, and I cleaned up in the restroom.  I was sore, but we rode for another couple of miles or so.  We attended a community outdoor concert that evening, but drove the car, as the pain was beginning to make itself known.
• Daughter asked "Daddy, shouldn't you have that looked at?"
• Well, I probably should have, but the memory of the eye-soul sons of bastidges who held me hostage for four days two years ago in a large building with lots of windows south of downtown Fort Worth (not to mention the uninsured portion I'm still paying on), compelled me to report "I'll be OK in a couple of days."
• Five to be exact.  Finally I can do the moves to the chicken dance, and the ribs are just slightly sore/tender.  Although a sneeze today did feel like I'd just met Brutus' dagger in the Roman Senate.
• I hope to be able to start the lawn mower tomorrow.
• I should probably wear steel-toed shoes...