48 hours prior to leaving for Connect, last Saturday I found myself in surgery at French Hospital reattaching a severed finger. By evening I was home, packing my suitcase, trying to forget about the day. Between the many shots of Novocaine and the steady drip of morphine, I felt no pain. Sunday was going to be a different story.
So here’s the simple story. Saturday morning, I went to test drive my ’65 Vespa after a two-month engine overhaul had been completed. The repair shop was located at the end of a dead end street. Against my desire, the mechanic urged me to take it out onto the street suggesting that driving little circles doing 2 miles an hour was no way to test the engine.
I never made it to the street. A pickup truck, too big and too wide turned into the narrow driveway blocking my path out. I had two choices and a split second to decide – his grill or the wall to my right. If you think I’m bad off, you should see the wall.
So I’m a little banged up. The top half of my right hand ring finger was severed. Thankfully I was wearing a glove so I didn’t have to look far for it. The rest of my fingers on my right hand were badly bruised. My arm and leg, scraped. And the Vespa, well… it’s a good thing there’s a body shop right next door to the mechanic. When it’s done, I’ll have it shipped home and as my wife puts it, “Then it goes right into the classifieds”.
Other than this blog, I have no way of thanking everyone who approached me at Inman offering concern regarding this injury. I am deeply grateful to all of you and want to assure you that despite my spaced out demeanor at times (you can thank the painkillers for that), I am fine. Really.
I’m challenged by a few things like typing, shaving, tying shoes – little things that get easier each day. Doctors say I’ll be ready for finger therapy in 6 weeks. That’s great news. I just wonder how long it will take to heal from the embarrassment of crashing a scooter into a wall. But to be honest, that’s about as daredevil as I get.