But I got it today. The brass ring. I got my ass run over.
Or...at least...my front tire.
It started off like any other Thursday morning, riding into work. As I pulled off of Glenoaks onto Buena Vista, I saw a line of cars stopped at an intersection. So, tucking myself as far right as I could, I started cruising past the stopped automobiles.
"Suckers," I thought to myself. "Bet you wish you could be me, all foot-light and fancy free."
However, annoyingly, one dude in a black Jeep started creeping into my lane...either because he saw me and wanted to block me in...or because he didn't see me, and he just sucks at driving. This happened at the "red X."
Either way, I motored past him and headed for the light. To my dismay, another motorist in a white car was creeping into my lane as well. I tried to speed up and pass her.
But she wasn't creeping, she was turning. Right. Onto the freeway on-ramp. I wasn't watching for an actual right-hand turn, because we hadn't reached the intersection yet -- she was using that little space between the "parked cars on the right" and the "intersection" to turn early.
Consequently, I didn't realize what was happening until too late. My front tire lost a "battle of tires" to her right-front tire, and I was launched about 10 feet off of my bike, onto the nice little grassy area between the road and the sidewalk.
Luckily for me, there was no limo parked there...so I had a nice, soft landing.
The first thing I thought was: "Shit." Not because I was upset, but because I had, apparently, Superman'd through a pile of dog shit, which was now all over the front of my green hoodie.
I started laughing, even as I was skidding across the grass. This was probably out of embarrassment...but also because it was kind of neat to slide across a patch of wet grass. I secretly hoped that it looked pretty cool to the other cars waiting at the stoplight. This is kinda' how I imagined it:
Now there is this weird moment in time, where a "vehicle" somehow magically transforms from an "obstacle to avoid" into a "human being." It's a really bizarre thing...and anyone who's been in a car accident is probably familiar with this transition. It's jarring. One moment there's a car that's somehow drifting into me...at the next moment, there's a very nice, older woman standing next to me telling me "I'm sorry -- I didn't see you there. Are you okay?" with an indeterminate eastern European accent.
And I was. Okay. The bike was...well...beaten up, but it looked like it hadn't been too damaged, structurally. The tire was bent, but not extremely so (I was still able to ride it, once I'd disengaged the front brake). But the fork, brakes, handlebars, pedals, and gears all seemed to come through with minor scratches. Heck, my clothes even came through unscathed...unless you count the smear of feces down the front of my hoodie. But my newly-purchased khakis didn't have so much as a grass stain on them.
But I ran into another problem: "So...what now?" It's not like we could exchange insurance info (that's part of the reason I ride a bike -- no insurance). And it's not like she's on the hook to pick up the tab or anything. I mean...I suppose she is legally...but it's not like I was going to file a claim with her insurance or anything. It was just a stupid little bent wheel.
"Oh shit," I thought, smelling poop, "was this my fault?"
I went over the accident in my mind. Squeeze past asshole in Jeep. Approach intersection. Try to squeeze past car turning. Bike tire squished. Flying. Shit.
This is officially collision type #7 on the bike safety checklist...it's also known as "The Right Hook, Pt. 2". Of course, legally, I was in the clear because she hit me, not the other way around. According to Johnny Law, she should have checked her blind spot before turning right.
But, realistically, I was not in the right. I should have slowed down to the speed of traffic once the light turned green. I should seen and recognized her turn signal. I should have known the on-ramp was coming up. I pride myself on making it so that I don't even give cars the opportunity to hit me (called: "Ride as if you're invisible"). But this time I totally failed.
Which meant that, as she was giving me her contact information, and taking mine...and as she offered to pay for the repairs (a very nice woman, like I said), all I wanted to do was apologize to her for being an idiot, and a terrible cyclist. It reminded me a lot of this:
But I just rode off instead, only issuing a lame, half-assed warning to her that she should be watching for bicycles. As I was about a half-mile down the road, she called me and apologized, asking if I needed a ride to where I was going (as I say, she was a very nice lady). I called her back and told her that I was fine, and thanks for calling.
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