#1 - Tipping over the trike

I’ve been riding the trike for about 500 km before I did it. I tipped it over. Not by going through a corner too fast or by a sudden change of direction. No, I did it in the most idiotic way I can think of.
When crossing a deep hole in the sandy path, I bogged down. I just didn’t have the speed nor the muscle power to climb out of it. So there I was. On an incline, leaning to the side dangerously far, unable to move by peddling. The only way out, was by getting of it, and pull the trike out of the hole.

But since I was on such uneven terrain, even getting up wasn’t all that easy. As soon as I tried, I lost my balance. So there I went. Taking a dive, grabbing anything I could to hold on to. One hand touched the dirt, while the other held on to the trike. The next moment, I was on the ground in a rather artistic composition with my trusted ride. Laughing out loud. How could I be such an idiot? Why did I chose that side of the hole? The middle clearly was the better option all day long. I would have loved to be able telling you this all happened in a graceful, elegant move. But it didn’t. It was clumsy. It was silly. And most of all, I was happy nobody was around to watch it happen.

Immediately after, still lying on the ground, I started checking out the trike. Did I bend something? Had he survived? He, yes… for a couple of weeks now, I had been wondering what name the trike should get. And to be honest, I couldn’t even determine if it should be a boy or a girl. It had been dealing with corners in such elegant way. While taking any rough path I took like a champ. It looks refined and strong at the the same time. But right here, on my side in the sand, the trike half on top of me, it became clear. To me, he felt very masculine. Maybe because of how clumsy he felt tipping over. Maybe because he took the fall unscaved. But most definitely, because lying on the ground, I felt like I was traveling with an equal. A copy of myself in a way.