My daughter is teaching at a new school in the fall. We have been helping her move her stuff to her new classroom. Yesterday, we loaded up the wife's Escape with boxes of stuff the daughter wanted to take home.
I was carrying a box into my daughter's garage when out of nowhere something struck me on the side of the head. Hard. It knocked my glasses from my face and me to my knees. After wallowing on the floor for a bit, I looked up to see one of the bikes had fallen from the ceiling, it hung now only by the hook on the rear wheel; the front swung in a lazy arc above my head. The dislodged hook was on the floor at my feet. The bike had swung down and hit me square on the side of the head with the front tire. The wife found my glasses, unbroken and unbent a few feet away.
The new, more optimistic me looked at the weird turn of events and was glad it was the tire, not the frame that struck me. The wheel nut could have opened my scalp like a tin can. The son-in-law's car could have been under the bike. It could have been my wife or daughter getting the head shot.My glasses were unharmed. So was I.
The old pessimistic side still whispers in my ear, "What the fuck? Why me"?