hi Diego,

I bet you’re excited about the upcoming snowboarding season. Me, I have found a different way to increase my chances of a debilitating injury: I’ve begun commuting to work by bicycle. After 6 months of it and 1000 or so miles, I’ve endured just a scrape here and there and maybe a couple broken bones that I didn’t need anyway—good odds compared to what seems to happen when I strap a plank to my feet and tumble head over heels down a steep icy hill, sail through the trees, unwittingly shoot myself off a cliff and plunge into the fiery pit of Hades, across the River Styx, and by chance finally come to rest in the Burlington Hospital Emergency Room—but please do cross your fingers for me.

In hindsight I’ve come to blame Josh Cherry for that snowboarding incident. Yes, I know he wasn’t with me at the time, but he was nearby. Let me explain. I believe his mere presence in any scenario tends to land me in the soup every time. Perhaps we’re both accident prone, and in each other’s presence the odds tip over into the red. Each time he’s been to Boston, I recall having a near death experience.

For example, soon after the Burlington Incident, Josh and I were crossing Tremont St in the South End and I was almost run over by a stampeding pack of local youths. I found myself in their path while Josh watched from a safe distance. They swerved toward me and sped to a gallop, nearly grazing my rump as I leaped onto the sidewalk, leaving me no time to turn around and yank the crooked middle finger out of my cast to meet their receding hind quarters.

This should be enough to convince you of the deleterious effects of Josh Cherry on my health and well being. But if not, I shall tell you of the time we were speeding down the alley alongside Storrow Drive in the summertime, going perhaps a little fast but feeling very much like Londoners in our borrowed red Mini Cooper. We bounded over potholes and swerved around dumpsters and past protruding parked cars, and out of nowhere our headlights illuminated the side of a 1987 Chevy Nova about 4 feet ahead. The odds were against us, but I stomped on the breaks and through some miracle we came out unscathed.

So it should be clear to you at this point that Josh is nothing but trouble for me. I do enjoy his company, but next time he’s in town I’ll wisely insist on avoiding the bicycle, car, snowboard, or any trains for that matter, and will choose instead to hop to my destination encased in a thick layer of bubble wrap.

best,
Carl