I had just put the kids on the school bus as usual and headed down I-79 on my motorcycle for the highway stretch of my normal route to work. Traffic was a little heavier that usual, thanks to a series of tri-axle dump trucks in the right lane. I was in the left lane passing at a reasonable speed for the conditions involved, which meant that almost immediately I acquired a tailgater. In this case, it was a white minivan that I'd be almost willing to bet had a soccer ball sticker on the rear window or, worse yet, one of those "looks like a ball that broke the window and got stuck there but really is just a sticker made to look that way" things.

As I approached the rear of the first dump truck, a chunk of asphalt from the crumbling road kicked up off its rear tire. I watched it bounce once, twice and then slam into the middle finger of my left hand. I had slowed slightly, but the vehicle behind me prevented any emergency braking, and the odd shape of the rock ensured that it would take an unpredictable bounce right to the place I had swerved trying to avoid where I thought it would go.

Quickly taking stock, I had a clutch hand that hurt to the point that I was sure something was broken, I was in the left lane with traffic crawling up my tail, and the only safe place to pull over was on the right, necessitating a lane change into a crowded line of traffic and then pulling off. I hit my turn signal to move to the right and, fortunately, a better driver than the minivan's had observed what had happened and let me in. I did somehow manage to show my injury to the driver of the minivan.

Once I pulled off, I stopped the bike and just stalled the motor so I wouldn't have to use the clutch. Removing my glove I found a fair amount of blood, which I quickly stopped but not before it had splattered all over my pants, the side of my motorcycle, and probably, if justice really exists in the universe, the front of the white minivan.

I managed to ride back home with very little use of the clutch and switched to four wheels for the trip to the emergency room. Luckily, no bones were broken, but I did have a cracked tendon and received seven stitches shared between two knuckles. Two weeks later, the doctor recommended squeezing exercises for that hand. Hmmm, the clutch lever is a great object to work out on.

In the aftermath, I received the usual "If you weren't riding a motorcycle, that wouldn't have happened!" to which I responded that they were of course absolutely correct. If I had been in a car, the rock would have come through the windshield right into my face, or, because I drive a pickup, into my chest. Dangers exist no matter what you drive. Be careful, but enjoy your journey.

Tom Harvey lives in Franklin Park.