This is for Travis, because Ian has been stealing all his hoes. And everybody knows, just like that saying goes, bros before hoes. YEAH! I am a sweet rhymerer.
Ever had your finger caught between the chain and sprocket of a bicycle?
I’ve always been a bit of an overachiever.
Luckily, it wasn’t the same finger.
But one of the unfortunate nubs that had already received more than its share of trauma.
When I was 5, I nearly lost the tip of my ring finger on my left hand.
I blame my middle sister for this.
She was kind of a brat.......Still is (love ya, Heather).
Anyway, it was Christmas Eve. Me and my two older sisters were at my grandparents house alone.
My oldest sister was 15, and had been irresponsibly left in charge of us.
The rest of my family was at the hospital because my grandfather was dying of lung cancer.
We were hanging out, being kids, and doing typical kid stuff.
I was sitting on a foot stool that had folding metal legs.
The “brat” decided she would kick me off the foot stool so she could put her feet there.
Stubbornly, I held on to the sides.
After I toppled over, I realized that my hand was stuck in the legs that had folded up, scissor style. Once my hand was freed, it was discovered that the tip of my finger was only attached by a tiny piece of skin.
After my uncle made his way down the ice covered street and took me to the hospital, it was reattached with many stitches.
Fast forward a few years. I think I was 9. I was working on my BMX bike, and BAM!
I got the same finger pinched between the chain and sprocket.
More stitches and it was back to its normal disfigured self.
About 2 years later, I was working on a different BMX bike ,and being careful to avoid getting my left ring finger anywhere near the chain/sprocket area, when all of a sudden…..BAM!
My first thought was, “Not again!”
Thankfully, it was the middle finger on my right hand. If it had been my left ring finger, they surely would have had to written it off as a loss and I would have been sporting a left ring nub.
The middle finger on my right hand was tougher though, so it only required a few butterflies, as well as a stern lecture from the physician about the dangers of chain/sprocket repair.
I could have used that speech a few years prior, Dr. Obvious.
AND, the only time I cried was the very last time. I think this wasn't so much because of the pain, but because of the realization of my stupidity.
Moral of the story, never attempt bike repair without proper protection.
Like a thimble.
Or some of those finger condoms they sell.
Or take it to a bike shop, if you’re one of those “made-of-money” types who value their fingers.