According to Wikipedia, A Friday occurring on the 13th day of any month is considered to be a day of bad luck in English and Portuguese-speaking cultures around the globe. Similar superstitions exist in some other traditions. In Greece and Spain, for example, Tuesday the 13th takes the same role. The fear of Friday the 13th is called paraskavedekatriaphobia, a specialised form of triskaidekaphobia, a phobia (fear) of the number thirteen.
As it happens, this day occurred yesterday and for all those who missed out on having an accident of some sort this year, can brace themselves for two new opportunities next year: namely Friday the 13th in April 2007 and Friday the 13th in July 2007. Strangely, there is evidence to suggest that Friday the 13th is actually unlucky. Psychologists, according to Wikipedia, have found that some people are especially likely to have accidents or fall ill on Friday the 13th. This has been attributed to such people feeling a heightened state of anxiety on that day (see nocebo effect). The Stress Management Centre and Phobia Institute in Asheville, North Carolina estimates that in the United States alone, $800 or $900 million is lost in business each Friday the 13th because people will not fly or do business they would normally do. [1]
Of course, I refuse to believe in such superstition so in the spirit of Carpe Diem (yesterday being a beautiful day and being a cyclist, beautiful days are gifts from above that need to be greeted with effusive enthusiasm) I jumped on my recently acquired road-bike and headed off to the park. It is of course particularly poignant that the only other time when I caught myself thinking aloud what a perfect day it is for cycling and what a wonderful sport cycling is, also resulted in a similar disaster as yesterday: falling off. This time of course in the spirit of Buddhistic appreciation for all things living, I swerved violently to try to avoid squirrel darting out from the bushes, but the poor squirrel got target fixation and kept heading at me so I pulled the breaks (far too strongly of course) and next thing I know, I'm in mid air and much like a cartoon character, realising I will soon be on the ground again, my face first. Bang! Landed partly on my head and on my shoulder, clanged my teeth shut with such force couple of teeth got new biting surfaces.. but my cycling helmet saved my life. Of course, to add insult to injury at this point the squirrel had stopped by the side of the road and must have found the scene in front of him an amusing one, cyclist sprawled out on pavement with bicycle ricocheting off into bushes..
Only then of course did I think of the fact that it was Friday the 13th and this was predictable in the minds of all those who firmly believe this is the prime unlucky day of the year. For me, I think my capacity to rejoice in the pleasures of riding by telling myself how perfect everything is must be a literal 'truth or dare' to the little anti-cycling devil that keeps tabs on me, a temptation too great to resist, so hence my capacity to fall off every time I think that thought. Lesson learnt: muse over joy of pursuing your hobby AFTER finishing doing it for the day. Otherwise...
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