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PILOT TO BOMBARDIER! Summertime in San Francisco is unlike any other place on earth. Given that we're in California, one might assume sunny skies and extreme temperatures. Due to the nature of our coastline and some other scientific stuff, the Bay Area is host to a gazillion microclimates that endure varying stages of fog throughout the day. If you're thinking of vacationing in our fair city, April, May, September and October are you best bets -- June, July and August suck big time. At times the fog reminds me of what my step-father would call a good "Scotch mist" and this morning was no exception. The ground was damp but not excessively so, though I must confess that I thought twice about riding my bike to work as I have to negotiate two hills too and from work. On a fine day, riding to work can be one big "weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" if the traffic and lights cooperate. Wet weather is another matter and I'm fairly conservative on my downhill speed. It was all for naught this morning as I hit an oil slick and tumbled over sideways into the path of the car behind me. My left shoulder bore the brunt of my fall though my face and head (helmeted) made contact with the pavement as well (bombs away!). I hate falling, whether off my bicycle or tripping over my own feet. The shock is overwhelming and I almost always burst into tears. This morning was no exception and I cried all the way to work as I tried to avoid moving my left arm in any way. I half imagined my collar bone poking through my flesh though the only blood flowed from the chunk missing from palm of my hand and zilch from my imagined wounds. Nothing appears to be broken and I'm not screaming in pain, but I hurt. My beloved Dr. K has a late opening so I'll let him make the final determination. I definitely won't be sleeping on my left side for awhile, desisting in my cries of "I spoon you now!" 08/23/2004
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