
Now I know how 1107 feels right now.
Most of the aches and bruises from last weekend’s rollover at the Hawthorne 225 had disappeared except for one in my side and Roxanne convinced me it was worth a trip to urgent care to have it looked at. (I’d been doing a lousy job hiding how much pain I was in any time I used my waist to turn, walk, sit down, lift anything heavier than a beer or roll over in bed).
The admitting nurse asked how much it hurt and I said “You know when you get hit in the ribs with a pool cue during a bar fight? Like that.”
The doctor comes in and I start telling him what an amazing race we’d been having, how we rolled the car, got it upright and kept racing and Roxanne reminding me to “stop talking about the race and tell him where it hurts.”
Then he sort of poked my rib cage with his index fingers and I’d have choked him to death right then and there if I could see him through the white spots that instantly blinded me.
Diagnosis: Fractured rib. “It’s going to hurt for a few weeks.”
I did get to pass out some hero cards in the emergency room, so it wasn’t a total loss.
I fought through the pain to clean out 1107 this afternoon – a case of empty plastic oil cans, a coffee cup, random stuff I picked up off the ground where we camped (“Leave no trace!) – then pulled out the tool, spare parts and medical bags, plus the two Camelbaks, the cordless impact wrench and one of the two spare tires.
We’ll get 1107 power washed this week, assess the damage and look at our options to get it ready for the two short course races in October.