D.U.I.

Mills and I have gotten pretty good at balancing on one bike. Besides that little kneecapping incident. Unfortunately last night proved that we have yet to master the drunken-biking balancing act.

After a civilised round of croquet in the park (which lasted over four hours, without anyone winning... we're that good) we moved on to not-so-civilised dinner in town. Mills and I were already on one bike, so when it came time to go home we went through the usual routine: Mills fired up the engines, I trotted along next to him and hopped on. No problem.

We travelled about 7metres and fell over.

It happened in slow motion. We were doing fine, when suddenly the vindictive hand of gravity reached up over my left shoulder and pulled. Technically, I don't know whether I was the one responsible for the lack of equilibrium, or if it was Mills who just couldn't handle the excess baggage.

I landed arse-first, with my feet in the air. Mills landed in a similar position, but on top of me, sandwiching the bike between us.

The indignity.

We walked home after that. Well, I stomped and Mills tried to keep up while wheeling/wobbling his bike behind me. Next time, maybe we'll take the bus.