Too close an encounter with a car
So for the past 4½ years of riding far and wide through the English countryside on meandering country lanes and bustling narrow roads, I’ve managed to avoid
“I should glow in the dark soon,” I thought to myself, as the X-ray technician placed what I was hoping to be the last plate alongside my spine and exited the room. I always abhorred the practice of having radiation beamed through my body and would usually avoid it at all costs, but after both doctors agreed unmercifully that it was “absolutely necessary” given the circumstances of the accident, I reluctantly shrugged and gave in. An exorbitant sixteen X-rays later, I emerged from the room of doom, already feeling as though a gladiator had thrown me across the ring and stomped up and down on me a few more times for good measure.
It was bound to happen…it was only a matter of time. Ask any gambler. It’s all about the odds.
I’d been a cyclist for over ten years now, 4½ of them in England. In those ten years I’d crashed quite a few times, mainly due to self-imposed reasons. Not that I wanted to inflict pain on myself and crash intentionally, mind you, but because part of my cycling activities included mountain bike racing, where a racer voluntarily places themselves in high risk situations, in an environment where dangerous encounters are inherent, and pain therefore, becomes self-imposed. It’s the rider’s own fault, really, if he or she misjudges how steep a drop off is, takes a corner at too high a speed, or rides through what looked like a puddle and turns out to be a boggy quagmire, tossing the rider over the handlebars. Nevertheless, all of this experience serves to make the rider a more astute, technically capable, better skilled cyclist.
So for the past 4½ years of riding far and wide through the English countryside on meandering country lanes and bustling narrow roads, I’ve managed to avoid many a collision with incompetent motorists and heedless horses, unobserving cattle, and donkeys. But it’s not the animals that pose a problem. They never really dart in front of you unless they get spooked. Occasionally they don’t hear you coming, usually on a windy day, when in an attempt to dash out of the way, their hooves slip on the pavement, sliding smack dab in front of you as you’re barreling along at 18 mph. This is usually no problem, as your reflexes and riding prowess allow you to swerve around them in just enough time to avoid a collision. Now as for the motorists, that’s another story. Some are just clueless. They have absolutely no concept of how fast you’re approaching as they pull right out in front of you. They are oblivious to how close they come and have no idea what it’s like to be buzzed by a car or truck moving swiftly past just inches away while they almost run you off the road. What really gets me is when there is slow-moving traffic and they just HAVE to pass you so that a few yards up the road they can stop short in front of you, leaving no room for you to go around them. They haven’t the faintest notion how much momentum you carry while you brake to avoid them, as they pull so far to your side of the road to make their turn, which they could have waited a few more seconds to make if they would only just think a little.
As a cyclist sharing the road with motorists, I understand what it is like: I am vulnerable, unassuming, ever on guard for the bemused driver, taking a risk every time I don my helmet. So, after a certain number of near-misses, no matter how many times I’ve steered clear of danger, or narrowly escaped what could have been a disaster, it was inevitable…
It was only a matter of seconds before I was thrown to the ground. What could I do? It’s a horrible feeling, seeing it all flash in a matter of seconds before my eyes. The car began creeping forward, out of the driveway. “I hope they see me,” I thought. In a split second I knew if I veered off in front of it onto the oncoming lane I’d be hit. It continued to pull out further, until it was entirely covering the road, then it stopped. Nowhere for me to go to avoid the huge chunk of metal I was quickly approaching head on. I applied my brakes to no avail. If only she’d just kept going and got out of the way! I headed straight toward the back end, turning ever so slightly to avoid getting thrown straight over the car, knowing impact was just a moment away…and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it! I kind of ducked down and took the brunt of the impact on my right hand, shoulder and elbow, as I was thrown sideways off the bike, landing hard against my kneecap as my face scraped against the rough gravel. I could feel intense pain in my left knee, hand, face and throughout my body. I was furious and yelled out in anger. My eyes were closed tight as I winced in agony, sobbing uncontrollably. I felt dizzy and sick and thought I was going to black out. I could hear people around me as someone covered me with a blanket and assured me the ambulance was on its way. I was shivering with cold while what seemed like an eternity was really just a matter of minutes before the paramedics were lifting me onto the stretcher. The paramedic guys were really nice, helping to take my mind off my distress by joking about how at least I did this in style; the offending car was a Jaguar.
So here I am, a day later, with scrapes, bruises, a sprained hand and wrist, and sore all over, but at least I’m in one piece and able to tell this story. It could have been much worse and it just goes to show how a complete stranger could change your life in a matter of seconds.
I guess my number was up when it came to the inevitable, but just think…I now start out with a clean slate and at least my odds of this happening again are not for a long time (I hope)!
Joanne Bradbury
It was bound to happen…it was only a matter of time. Ask any gambler. It’s all about the odds.
I’d been a cyclist for over ten years now, 4½ of them in England. In those ten years I’d crashed quite a few times, mainly due to self-imposed reasons. Not that I wanted to inflict pain on myself and crash intentionally, mind you, but because part of my cycling activities included mountain bike racing, where a racer voluntarily places themselves in high risk situations, in an environment where dangerous encounters are inherent, and pain therefore, becomes self-imposed. It’s the rider’s own fault, really, if he or she misjudges how steep a drop off is, takes a corner at too high a speed, or rides through what looked like a puddle and turns out to be a boggy quagmire, tossing the rider over the handlebars. Nevertheless, all of this experience serves to make the rider a more astute, technically capable, better skilled cyclist.
So for the past 4½ years of riding far and wide through the English countryside on meandering country lanes and bustling narrow roads, I’ve managed to avoid many a collision with incompetent motorists and heedless horses, unobserving cattle, and donkeys. But it’s not the animals that pose a problem. They never really dart in front of you unless they get spooked. Occasionally they don’t hear you coming, usually on a windy day, when in an attempt to dash out of the way, their hooves slip on the pavement, sliding smack dab in front of you as you’re barreling along at 18 mph. This is usually no problem, as your reflexes and riding prowess allow you to swerve around them in just enough time to avoid a collision. Now as for the motorists, that’s another story. Some are just clueless. They have absolutely no concept of how fast you’re approaching as they pull right out in front of you. They are oblivious to how close they come and have no idea what it’s like to be buzzed by a car or truck moving swiftly past just inches away while they almost run you off the road. What really gets me is when there is slow-moving traffic and they just HAVE to pass you so that a few yards up the road they can stop short in front of you, leaving no room for you to go around them. They haven’t the faintest notion how much momentum you carry while you brake to avoid them, as they pull so far to your side of the road to make their turn, which they could have waited a few more seconds to make if they would only just think a little.
As a cyclist sharing the road with motorists, I understand what it is like: I am vulnerable, unassuming, ever on guard for the bemused driver, taking a risk every time I don my helmet. So, after a certain number of near-misses, no matter how many times I’ve steered clear of danger, or narrowly escaped what could have been a disaster, it was inevitable…
It was only a matter of seconds before I was thrown to the ground. What could I do? It’s a horrible feeling, seeing it all flash in a matter of seconds before my eyes. The car began creeping forward, out of the driveway. “I hope they see me,” I thought. In a split second I knew if I veered off in front of it onto the oncoming lane I’d be hit. It continued to pull out further, until it was entirely covering the road, then it stopped. Nowhere for me to go to avoid the huge chunk of metal I was quickly approaching head on. I applied my brakes to no avail. If only she’d just kept going and got out of the way! I headed straight toward the back end, turning ever so slightly to avoid getting thrown straight over the car, knowing impact was just a moment away…and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it! I kind of ducked down and took the brunt of the impact on my right hand, shoulder and elbow, as I was thrown sideways off the bike, landing hard against my kneecap as my face scraped against the rough gravel. I could feel intense pain in my left knee, hand, face and throughout my body. I was furious and yelled out in anger. My eyes were closed tight as I winced in agony, sobbing uncontrollably. I felt dizzy and sick and thought I was going to black out. I could hear people around me as someone covered me with a blanket and assured me the ambulance was on its way. I was shivering with cold while what seemed like an eternity was really just a matter of minutes before the paramedics were lifting me onto the stretcher. The paramedic guys were really nice, helping to take my mind off my distress by joking about how at least I did this in style; the offending car was a Jaguar.
So here I am, a day later, with scrapes, bruises, a sprained hand and wrist, and sore all over, but at least I’m in one piece and able to tell this story. It could have been much worse and it just goes to show how a complete stranger could change your life in a matter of seconds.
I guess my number was up when it came to the inevitable, but just think…I now start out with a clean slate and at least my odds of this happening again are not for a long time (I hope)!
Joanne Bradbury
