The movie, nor the picture, have anything to do with this post. I was going strictly for the title. Do you remember the saying; "The bigger they are, the harder they...."? How did you finish that saying? "Fall?" Well, at different times in life I have modified the ending to fit the situation, but yesterday I finished it in the traditional fashion. I was recovering nicely from the little effects of the viral or bacterial malady that kept me inside for most of the weekend and decided to do a little work on my motorcycle. I took the windshield off and cleaned it of the stickers the previous owner had attached, and I rode for a while without the windshield just to prove I still could. I decided to lower the level of the windshield one notch before I re-installed it, and I used a rubber mallet to move the flexible insert into position. After I finished, I laid the rubber mallet down and rode to the mall to meet Bebe for lunch. I loved the results of my adjustments. After lunch, I decided to ride home and clean up before Bebe got back. It was HOT. I was fine as long as the bike was moving, but when I stopped, the heat and humidity combined with the heat off the motorcycle engine and caused me to leak. I pulled the bike into the garage and turned it off. I removed my helmet and gloves and retrieved my cell phone from the saddle bags. I was intent on making a fast break for the coolness of the air conditioned house, but I spotted the rubber mallet I used to adjust the windshield. Now in way of explanation, I have one side of my garage free of clutter to accommodate our family car. The other side is a maze of assorted tools, bikes, chemicals, exercise equipment, and other junk. I know how to carefully navigate the little spaces between all this stuff to get to whatever I need next. The key words here are "carefully navigate". I had on my big motorcycle boots, and my sunglasses. I was carrying my cell phone, and the rubber mallet I intended to hang on my peg board against the wall. As I carelessly weaved between our bicycles and my fertilizer spreader, I somehow lost my balance. It was like the slow-mo segment on the Wide World of Sports agony of defeat footage where the ski jumper looses it at the bottom of the jump and tumbles to the bottom of the hill. I instinctively dropped everything I could to make some vain attempt to use my hands to try and slow the progress of the 245 lbs. of jello as it jiggled its way toward the concrete floor. As my eyes scanned the landing area, I realized to my horror that an air compressor was occupying that very spot. I locked my feeble landing gear in place and tried to guide them to either side of the compressor. The inside of my left forearm failed to clear completely and provided some useless friction. The evidence can be clearly seen and felt this morning. My frame proved to be of sufficient strength to not only stop me, but allow me to hobble into the house afterward. The smell of Tiger Balm fills the air of my office today. I am thinking I should probably weigh around 145 lbs. to maintain the proper weight to stopping power ratio. All systems are functional, but tender, today and I will probably avoid strenuous activity for another day or two.