The good thing about crashing -- wait for it -- is that you always learn something.

Take my crash yesterday. Please.

It happened while I was JRA (which is bike-shop slang for just riding along, as in "Customer claims he was JRA when his fork snapped.").

Seriously, I was just riding along when both wheels scooted out from under me. Wham! My left hip and elbow kissed the concrete.

Like any good cyclist, I know exactly what to do when disaster strikes :

• make sure there are no onlookers who could make fun of you
• check that bike is unhurt, down to bar tape and pedal dustcaps
• curse and/or cry
• see if body is okay
• oh, and get out of the road

I got up. I fell again. That's when it hit me (in the butt): black ice.

Why do they call it black ice anyway ? Seems like the black part is the road underneath the ice, which -- being ice -- is clear. Still, black ice sounds so much gnarlier, like black death or Black Mass. A truer description would make you sound inattentive, not heroic: "This scar? No biggie. I fell on some clear ice."

So, what did I learn from this crash ?

• Lesson 1: If you're going to ride at 6:30 a.m. when it rained the night before and the temperature's around 30 degrees, choose a quiet country road so no one will see you ice yourself.

• Lesson 2: Fall on your left side so you don't damage the drivetrain.

• Lesson 3: Riding indoors is less painful than sliding outdoors.

Yes, every cloud has a silver lining. Even black ones.

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