PHOENIX, ARIZONA: Where I Chuckled At My "Jolt From a Bolt" Rhyme

March 13, 2018

I couldn't leave Wickenburg without revisiting the the scene of my injury. So I rode back up Highway 60 to investigate how it happened and to see if my memory of the event coincided with what I find this morning.

What I learned from my investigation what that the accident can mostly be attributed to pilot error. Yes, I shouldn't have been riding on the sidewalk and, also, I shouldn't have been riding so FAST on the sidewalk.

Nevertheless, I'm pretty sure that, with the aid of a good, creative, shyster of a lawyer, the City of Wickenberg could be held partially responsible. Any decent attorney could argue that the city was liable to the tune of at least a couple million dollars. But, hey, let's leave the lawyers out of this. I'd be willing to settle out of court for, say, $1,000 toward another bike trip later in the year.

My evidence is compelling. Check out the pictures below.

Street light poles should not be planted in the middle of the sidewalk. Which side of the pole is a speeding cyclist supposed to go? Right? Into the bushes? Left? Into a busy street?

I don't know the reason for bolts sticking out of the streetlight poles, but I do know they're dangerous.

I couldn't find any of my skin, blood or muscle on this or any of the other poles in the area just like it. (Nice move, Wickenberg, for quickly disposing of the evidence.) But there's not a jury in the land that will be able to look at that bolt without feeling queezy from the thought of it ripping into my flesh. And when they see my scar, they will be more than happy to award me something like $20,000,000.

Okay, back to reality. As I said yesterday, I DID purposely lean into the pole to protect my bike, and I knew I'd have a reasonable expectation of getting a jolt from the impact. But never would I have expected to get a more serious jolt from a bolt. It still makes me feel ill. I get an even more sickly feeling when I think of a jogger running down the sidewalk, deciding to veer left as I did, and getting his face ripped open.

By the way, here are my stitches. Don't worry Wickenberg, I'm not going to sue you.

On a happier note, the downtown area of historic Wickenberg has a lot of cute little statues and dioramas to demonstrate just how historic the town really is. Skeptical me wondered, "are they authentic, or are they just for tourism? I mean, all this history and before yesterday I never heard of the place."

The classic cowboy-meets-showgirl scene.

In the old west days of Wickenberg, Hispanic cowboys often played guitar with one foot on a stool. (The guy in the orange biking shirt reflecting in the window is definitely not an authentic historical re-creation.)

I give Wickenberg credit for building a nice pedestrian bridge over a dry wash. A sign at the entrance says "No fishing from bridge."

Eventually I got out of town and began my last day of cycling. I rode hard and felt good. My stitches didn't hurt at all, but I could feel the tetanus shot they made me take. If that was all the pain I'd have to endure, I was home free. Tough guy, indeed.

For the first 15 miles of the ride I saw many saguaros. I had to take some pictures.

The only surprise was how boring Surprise was. At this point I was entering the Phoenix metro area.

In Phoenix I rented a car and drove to the very nice Velo Bike Shop & Cafe, where a helpful employee dug up a bike box from the back room for me. Next, I bought a roll of duct tape, disassembled my bike, boxed it up, and returned the car at the airport.

I'm sad to say that this concludes my tour and my journal. I will be back with a grand sweeping conclusion after I get my head together and my family situation settled a little bit.

Today's ride: 42 miles (68 km)
Total: 519 miles (835 km)

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