It had been a few weeks since I had seen K., my friend and former boss. We always met at a cafe in a suburban stripmall that was halfway between our homes. The last time he had told me suffered from an ailment that was severe enough to take a few days off work. This time, when I entered the cafe, K. was already there, and I was shocked to see he was using a gray, ugly hospital crutch to get up and shake my hand.
Naturally, I asked what had happened, fearing that his ailment had gotten worse. It turned out that the crutch was due to an entirely new injury.
He had recently taken up mountain biking in the California hills. The reason for his new hobby was that his teenage son was also mountain biking, and K. thought that this would be a good father-son activity to do together. In addition, his son had recently been out mountain biking with his friend, who had a nasty fall, and K. wanted to make sure he was being safe out on the trails.
On their first outing, they passed a trail junction. K’s son pointed to a large rock.
“Look, dad, that’s the rock my friend hit when he fell and broke his leg!”
“Where?” asked K., slowing his bike down and looking at the spot his son pointed at.
“Right there!”
With this, K. hit the rock with his bike, fell off, and broke his leg.
Nehaveigur 