Friday Follies ~~ Impacts

It’s been a long time since I came into contact with a car while riding my bicycle.  I’ve worked hard to avoid that kind of thing, and studied a lot on the matter.  Also, I’ve been fortunate.  I learned something from each and every one of those “impact incidents.”

Lesson 1:  Uncle Gravity never sleeps:

I Taught myself to ride a bike.  At the tender age of eight, I dragged my kidclunker up a hill and pushed off.  For the next several seconds I thought I’d made a terrible mistake.  But I got to the bottom of the hill just fine.  In fact it was so much fun that I did it again.  In the thrill of the moment, I had missed an important point.  That moment of terror was based on the realization that

gravity + uncontrol = trouble.

For a long time I didn’t get how the bike’s brakes worked.  I used two methods of stopping. 

Method 1:  Coast until the thing slows down, then drag feet. 

Method 2:  Hit something soft.

Pedaling the bike was kind of boring.  Costing down that same hill (the equipment ramp to our barn) grew tame.  I looked for more thrills.  I found them.  I tried riding off of the rocky side of the earth ramp.  The result was a trip to the emergency room.  Sudden stops at the bottom of steep rocky descents are painful.

Lesson 2:  Buicks don’t budge.

Early in my cycling career, I was still intrigued with the speed and thrill of rushing downhill, but I had not learned much about controlling the bike.  My grandparents came for a visit.  Old Pete, my grandfather, always drove the biggest most impressive car that he could afford.  In the 1950s this was a Buick with four holes in the fenders.  (Buick aficionados consider the number of fender holes in early Buicks to be significant.  For the uninitiated, the more holes, the bigger the car.)

I was encouraged to show off my new riding trick for the grandparents.  Old Pete got his camera out.  I pushed the bike up the hill.  I mounted the bike.  I rode wildly down the hill.  (By this time, I’d learned how to add some speed by pedaling the thing.)  I promptly rammed the Buick.  Result?  Another trip to the emergency room, and no apparent damage to the car.

Over the next few years I managed to find multiple ways to reinforce the Gravity and Buick lessons.

Lesson 3:  Watch where you are going.  (No matter how cute she is!)

Around age ten, I started using my bicycle to go places.  At first this was on sidewalks.  (My family had moved to the city, where such things existed.)  Soon I was venturing out farther and farther.  My destinations were places that sidewalks didn’t go to.  I was slowly learning how to ride a bike on the road.  By my early twenties I was doing this a lot.

So there I was, idling along in bumper to bumper traffic, in the small Virginia college town.  Stop and start.  Sit and wait.  Go a bit.  (Why do they call it rush hour?)  It was a warm Spring afternoon.  I spotted a really cute young lady on the sidewalk.  She saw me, and smiled.  I smiled back and started to say something witty.  That was when I rammed the car ahead of me, flipped over my bars, and came to rest on the trunk and rear window of the car ahead.

Lesson 4:  Stop Signs

I was cruising down a long hill.  There was a stop sign at the bottom.  The cross traffic did not have a stop.  I routinely blew through this one.  There was seldom any traffic.  On that particular afternoon, it didn’t work.  There was a car coming from my left.  I almost made it.  The car hit my rear wheel.  Result?  A totally trashed rear wheel and rear derailler, along with copious amounts of road rash.  Totally my fault.

Lesson 5:  Car doors.

Yep.  It happened to me.  I’d read about it.  I’d been told about it.  I thought I was in the habit of checking cars for occupants.  I was cruising along, not going particularly fast or slow.  Suddenly there was a door in front of me.  Up in the air.  Down on the ground, rolling and abrading.

The result?  A completely wrecked bike and a lot of road rash.  At that I was incredibly lucky.  I wasn’t wearing a helmet.  In those days they weren’t generally available.  Secondary result?  I did some pretty good damage to the car, sprung the door, and bent some metal.  The cage driver was furious.  Cops showed up.  I got the ticket.  (Later dismissed.)

I was incredibly lucky.  It could have been much much worse.  Treat parked cars like armed bombs.

Lesson 6:  Truck bumpers are hard.

I’ve been riding a long long time.  I flatter myself that I am a moderately good bike handler. 

I was doing some simple brake maintenance on one of my bikes.  I was in a hurry, and time was pressing.  I finished the work, and lowered the bike from my repair stand.  I’d only do a very short test ride.  No need to go inside the house and grab the helmet. 

A quick roll down the drive.  Brake check.  Turn up the street.  Double brake check.  A slow and easy 180, and back to the drive.  In the process of dismounting, I stepped down on some of those pesky sweetgum balls.  My foot slipped.  I fumbled and almost recovered.  Then, in slow motion, I fell over.  My head hit the bumper of my parked truck.

There is nothing dramatic, or heroic, about the incident.  I hurt like blazes, and resulted in a concussion.  When you are on the way to the ground, it’s too late to put the helmet on.