I finally had my bakfiets fixed. The brakes barely worked at all, and I had to pretty much jump off every time I wanted to stop - not ideal when your precious crotch fruit is riding in front of you depending on you for their safety.
I rode it away from the shop (without the kids) and I thought "hmm, something is up with the gears." So I hit it hard so I could switch the gears back and forth.
Well, it had just snowed, and though there was a lot on the sidewalks most of the roads were clear. MOST of them.
I hit a patch of ice, and for the first time EVER, I bit it on the bakfiets. Fortunately, it could have been a lot worse, I just skidded to the ground, catching the bike before it hit, but hitting the ground myself. (Screw the mama - SAVE THE BIKE!)
I tell my mom this storty and she's horrified: "Oh my GOD! Did anyone help you? I mean, how did you get up? Were you hurt?"
ME: "Mom, I fell down and I got back up. What do you think I did, roll around on the ground moaning? I didn't need help."
HER: "No, but someone should have helped you!"
ME: "Help me do what?"
HER: "I don't know - get up?"
Nope. I've been in Holland long enough that I know to stand up, move on and act like nothing ever happened.