I ran into the Gnome tonight whilst watching some old man softball here in Flagtard, AZ and he gave me some (lighthearted) shit about not posting in a while. I do apologize; I was on the east coast for a bit, and I haven’t done an especially good job of organizing my life since returning to the fine southwest.
So when I was sitting on my lazy ass today and the Gnome stopped by to drop off some good DC schwag, I felt I had to earn my keep around here. I wrote up a nice post about bikes and similar musings, but then something happened tonight and I wanted to write it down. It’s fresh in my mind now because it just happened literally ten minutes ago.
I just ended up on the hood of some asshole’s Lincoln Town Car.
I was riding my bike home from softball (disclaimer: I usually play fast pitch baseball and redefine mediocrity once a week, but instead I played old man softball to fill in tonight and once again redefined mediocrity), luckily using my new Knog Bullfrog light in the front and my Blackburn flashing red light in the rear (read: abiding by the goddamn law). When I came upon an intersection, Asshole in Car had a stop sign. I did not. I continued through the intersection.
So did Asshole in Car.
Never even stopped.
I slammed on my (non-cantilever) brakes so hard I flew over the handlebars, landed on my feet, launched forward, and ended up on the hood of the Lincoln.
Okay, Let’s pause and analyze.
We all make mistakes. I often roll through stop signs when I am driving, and I have made my share of driving mistakes. Even had a few close calls. This happens to all of us. There is no way around it, it’s the nature of the beast.
But let me make this perfectly clear: if you EVER, EVER, fucking come close to HITTING A CYCLIST, you better get out of your goddamn car and start apologizing fast.
This asshole sat in his driver’s seat, said, “sorry, sorry,” then drove off without even bothering to find out if I was okay. This does not pass for humanity. This does not pass as compassion or sorrow, or regret, or even being remotely kind in any way. Take fucking note.
Second Disclaimer: I was screaming like a mad man. I believe I said something along the lines of, “You almost fucking killed me, you fucking asshole! What the fuck is wrong with me you fucking asshole?”
I probably would have sat tight in my driver’s seat, too.
Maybe for a minute.
Then I would have gotten out to find out if the fucker was okay.
Summary: I am generally okay. Tweaked my ankle pretty good. My shoulder hurts, but I think it’s nothing. Could hurt worse tomorrow. Like I said, this just happened a bit ago. The worried look on my wife’s face tells me I should reassure her that I’m okay rather than write a goddamn blog post, but if I don’t get this out now, I’m likely to rant for the next hour. Better you than her, if you can be patient.
Final Lesson: never trust anyone but yourself, especially when on two wheels. People treat driving like it’s a goddamn hobby, something they do in between the important things in their lives. But nothing is more important than piloting a two thousand pound hunk of metal when other human beings are around. Keep your eyes open and maybe you can keep your skin off the pavement.by