Normally, I’m usually less forgiving to your kind. I don’t own a bell (I think those who have one, go overboard), so I sing out a yoohoo to break a would-be victim’s trance. But I was preoccupied myself this time as to the whereabouts of my BWL assignment. And had I not been riding on a late Monday morning perhaps too fast for those who haven’t had their 10 o’clock Krönung and Semelbrot, I could have reacted in way that saved us both a scare.

It didn’t help that there was a fairly thick Bordstein (curb) separating the bike lane from the outer sidewalk either. So I did what I could instinctively, hit the breaks, attempted to steer away from the oblivious peds, but the curb and bike had other plans so I went a tumbling. Honestly, the only thing that filled my head as my shoulder ate the sidewalk was, ‘great they see my underwear!

The shaken-up, old lady with the tacky white shirt and gold embroidery kept saying sorry and it was her fault for not looking. She even offered her phone number. But I wasn’t interested in a Kaffee und Kuchen affair. I was relieved that I had no broken bones and she didn’t need a hip replacement.

It’s always good to roll..