Kevin Vandever

I was recently riding my T2000 road bike along the Santa Ana river bed enjoying a nice Southern California day when just over ten miles into a thirty mile ride a bug flew into my mouth. This has happened many times before and usually the critter doesn’t make it much farther than my teeth or tongue and I am able to redirect and spit it out without harm to me or the flying creature. I know I need to do a better job at breathing through my nose and keeping my mouth’s opening to more of a sliver, not the wide open tunnel it must have looked like to the incoming bug. I’m working on it. This time, however, the bug’s aim was a bit sharper and it was able to negotiate its way through my teeth, over my tongue and straight down my throat. I forced a cough or two in an attempt to remove the intruder, but it wasn’t having any of that. I thought for a moment about swallowing the bug and at least removing it from my throat, but my body wasn’t listening to the brain’s suggestion at that action. I was still riding, coughing, and planning other modes of extraction when one of my coughs took hold and out came the…bee. Still riding, my first thought was, “I’m glad I was able to get that sucker out of my throat” and a my second thought was, “I wonder if it stung…” The thought didn’t have time to completely form when the my question was answered. The bee had stung me inside my throat. It was at this moment that I decided to stop riding.

I climbed off the bike and took a couple gulps of water. I waited and wondered what would happen next. I felt a little pain in my throat and it became a little tighter, but after a few minutes, it wasn’t too bad. I had been stung before, on the exterior of my body, and had never experienced an allergic reaction. So, why would I today? I climbed back on the bike and continued up the river bed towards the halfway point of my ride. As I got close to the halfway point, I realized it was a little tougher to breathe. I could still do so, but my throat felt less like the tunnel of before and more like a small tube. I stopped at the halfway point to down more water. The more I rested, the better my throat felt so I chilled there for a a few minutes and then hopped back onto the bike for the journey home.

This is where things really became interesting. Those who know me would probably say that stubbornness is one of the last traits attributed to me, but for some reason, on this day, I was a full-fledged, 100%, card carrying member of the stubborn club. I was not going to be stopped by something as trivial as a honey bee. Maybe a wasp, hornet, or even a bumble bee (given how wide open my mouth was, this wasn’t out of the question), would take me out, but not a sweet, little honey bee. So I rode, and the more I rode, the harder it was to breathe, so I rode faster in order to get home quicker which, you guessed it, made it even more difficult to breathe. It didn’t matter if I was attempting to breathe though my nose, mouth or eyelids, I found it equally difficult to suck in oxygen. I thought maybe that was no ordinary honey bee. Maybe it was one of those killer bees from Africa. Maybe I should stop and make a phone call and get some help. I rode on.

Well, I am alive today to write this so you can probably guess the outcome. I made it home safely. My family being made up of the loving and caring individuals that they are, did what any loving and caring individuals would do in this case; they gave me a whole heaping load of crap for riding home. “Why didn’t you call for a ride?”, “You could have died!”, and “Dad, you are dumbest man I know, a complete and utter moron!” (Okay, the last statement wasn’t actually said out loud, but I am certain they all thought it) are only samples of the verbal assault I received, some might even say deservedly so; however, I like to think I lived on the edge, tested my limits, and dug deeply within myself. There was nothing else on this earth, but that bee, my bike, and me. Man versus Nature. Yes, it was a honey bee but, hey, it could have been one of those evil, killer honey bees. In either case, killer bee or no killer bee, it’s still nature.

Or, it might just be another in the many life lessons that end with the same moral: Keep your mouth shut.

written by Kevin Vandever \\ tags: Biking, Honey Bee, Shut Your Mouth