I was biking home from hospice today when a car turned right in front of me without signalling. My fists hit the trunk and I was tossed to the pavement. Strangers rushed over to help; also the driver, upset and shaking, apologizing over and over. She scribbled a name and number on a piece of paper and I caught a glimpse of a license plate. And then I remember standing there, bike on the ground, people in a semi-circle … with me comforting the driver and babbling about no-harm-done.
At home now, taking inventory after a hot bath: abrasions on toes, elbows and one knee; bruised belly, groin, and one shoulder; pants torn, undetermined damage to the new bike. Listen here, kids: Don’t ride your bike in traffic unless you’ve first decompressed from one world to another. Ride defensively. If you get knocked off your bike, expect to be in shock. Ask witnesses to write down names and license numbers. You’re not thinking straight. Let yourself be helped.
And a word to drivers: kindly signal your intention to turn (I’m amazed how few do it); check your mirrors (especially in what may be a blind spot) when turning and before opening your door. Thank you.