The next instalment of inspiration.

This is what happened to me.

1997. Cruzing back to Wellington from Hamilton to begin my first posting. 100km/hour on two lanes of clear road. Back wheel locks up, bike tips over. I kick the bike away like a good little rider, proceed to slide along the road with the bike following me in a gentle spin. We slide to a stop. Disbelief? Confusion? Nope, conjecture. You see, I don't remember. I don't remember picking my broken wheels up and walking them to the nearest farm house. I don't remember home them if I could leave my bike there and use a phone to call home base. I don't remember getting a ride to Trentham, or getting on board a plane to fly to Christchurch, or the next two days attending a course.

I do know what happened through a series of other people. The farmer called three months later asking if I would mind picking my bike up. I had the guy sent to pick me up express annoyance that I robbed him of sleep that night. The plane boarding pass was in the book a friend from the course returned to me.

My course peers advised me that on the night I was attending a security briefing, I fell sideways off my chair, had a seizure, and proceed to stop breathing. Happily the course I was attending was a medical one, so my companions got firsthand real live experience. On me.

I woke up in Christchurch hospital 9 days later. I could confidently say I was most definitely NOT OK but OK with it 9 years later without interruption or confusing words.

Next installment in a few days

Even Michael Jordan was dropped from his high school basketball team.