My hand is bleeding out right in the center of my palm. Looking up at Reed, all I manage to say is, "Uh."
"Uh?? Are you okay?"
Sitting on the soggy cement, I begin to pull myself together. Snail slime seems to have completely enveloped my front and left sides, and I have to pick the gravel out of the gashes in my hand before I can try to wipe any of the slime away. My brain needs to catch up, and I obviously need to explain myself.
"There was a deer. A deer! It jumped out and ran right in front of me!"
Immediately after the words escape my mouth, I realize how stupid they sound. You'd think that after living here for a few years I would be able to remember that the largest wild animal you're ever going to see in the Netherlands is a squirrel.
With a completely justifiable amount of incredulity, Reed attempts to confirm what he's heard: "A deer?"
It's too late. I can't turn back. If I eat my words now, there's no way he'll ever believe anything else. "Yep. A deer. Just popped out of the trees right in front of me."
Still eyeing me suspiciously, he says, "A deer? I didn't see a deer."
"Well, how would you have? You were way up there on your bike and the deer was way back here!"
"All right. How's your hand? Your pants and jacket are all torn up."
Standing up slowly, I examine my clothes. My jacket is indeed torn under my left arm, and there are many small holes speckled along my left leg.
"My hand is fine. Let's just go home."
As I lift my bike from the ground, I see that the front wheel is very seriously bent, and both brake cords have been completely ripped from their sockets. I'll need at least a hammer before this is going anywhere again. Turning back to Reed, I give my best guess as to how far it is to town.
"Well, what do you think? Four miles to Hengelo?"
"Maybe more. I don't think we're even half way back yet. What does it matter now?"
"What does it matter? Obviously it matters! It's getting cold, and I need a ride."
"A ride? Where? In my limo?"
He's making this difficult on purpose. "No, on your bike!"
"Last time I checked, this is definitely not a tandem bike, bro."
"What, you expect me to walk five or so miles back to Hengelo? C'mon! You have that rack on the back for groceries!"
"But what about your bike? Are you just going to leave it here?"
"No, I'll ghost ride it. You pedal, and I'll hold it off to the side with one hand. Duh!"
Sighing in frustration, Reed very audibly grumbles, "This is stupid."
With one hand resting very masculinely on Reed's shoulder, we make our way back to Hengelo. After the third person to wave and whistle at us is out of view, I try to lean a bit further away from Reed in order to salvage some pride.
"Stop leaning back like that! You're making it impossible to pedal this thing!"
"Oh, sorry," I say while leaning back forward. "I guess I'll just start doing my princess wave for all the people who are honking at us. Can we stop for a second so I can switch my bike around to my left hand? My right arm is getting super tired."
"Are you kidding me? I'm not stopping this thing! We need to get off the side of the highway before the entire city decides never to talk to us again!"
"All right, well you had better pedal harder then!"
Reed's silence makes my bad joke evident.
After having run my jacket and pants through the wash for the third time, there's still a palpable film of slime covering them both.
"I don't think this snail-and-worm-gut residue is ever going to come out! Just my luck that we had to be biking home right after a rain storm."
"It rains like every day, dude."
"Yeah, but not usually that much."
"If you say so. So, a deer, right?"
Jerking my head around to look at him, I see him smiling wryly in the corner. "That's right."
Lying in bed, I think back on the events of the day. The bike ride between Enschede and Hengelo had become unbearably dull until today, when legions of snails and worms had made their way onto the bike path after a few days of rain. Trying to weave through and around as many as possible, I begin to guide my bike with only my left hand. Success! How does it go with only my right hand? Success again! What about no hands? Ahh, yeeeah, I'm awesome! Maybe I can't swerve quite as well without any hands on the handlebar, but still not too shabby.
Hey, how well can I steer my bike with only my right hand on my left handlebar?
And that, in the words of this author, is a wild Dutch deer.
"What happened?!?"
My hand is bleeding out right in the center of my palm. Looking up at Reed, all I manage to say is, "Uh."
"Uh?? Are you okay?"
About as okay as a person can be after deciding that an oh-such-a-ridiculously-terrible idea is in fact a good idea without any further thought.
