I have amassed 5000 miles since I started riding a year and a half ago and 4000 this year alone. I have always tried to ride smartly and follow the cardinal rules of being seen and acting predictably. I was dressed in a bright yellow jacket and traveling properly in the road.
Wednesdays are my travel day. Nearly every Wednesday for the last four years I have spent in Chicago. I let myself be talked out of this week because of the weather. The immortal words of Dante from “Clerks” rang through my head more than once – “I’m not even supposed to be here!”
I had skipped riding on Tuesday due to rain and not being able to get my rollers adjusted properly to use them in time. This left me weary and frustrated and I was determined to ride Wednesday. The temps were fine and I was suitably dressed but the wind was oppressive – 15-20 mph and swirling. I decided to use my reasonably short Edwardsville route which goes out IN 62 – Corydon Pike. As I made my way over to 62 I thought about turning back as I could feel the wind trying to push me over in a way I have never experienced. I kept going knowing that once I got to the Edwardsville climb the wind would be more or less negated. I started out the rather flat opening section in to a serious headwind trying like hell and getting about 13-14 mph. I saw a fast moving small pickup truck coming in hot on my right side. He was coming down a hill on a side street looking to turn left at a STOP SIGN. He failed to stop and turned right in front of me. I saw what was happening and started to bail out to the right, I didn’t make it and slammed into the front quarter panel of the truck. I was already leaning away from the truck and so I went straight down and away from the vehicle. I hit my forehead in my eyebrow and my right shin probably on the downtube. I was able to jump right up with adrenaline and the driver got right out to help me. It should be said that he began apologizing immediately, asking if I was OK and clearly angry with himself for his carelessness. He said right up front that he should have seen me and he couldn’t believe he didn’t. There was no anti-cyclist screed and any attempt to blame me for not being on a sidewalk or something. I told him I understood and accepted his offer to sit on the tailgate while we waited for the cops.
At this point the jitters started to set in. As most of us do I have no shortage of things to live for. Not only was my front wheel smashed but so to was any illusion I might have that I was not vulnerable. In fact as I sat there that is what I thought of the most – being out on a bike really leaves you exposed. I thought a lot about having to tell my wife, my mom, and my dad. I imagined impassioned plea’s to quit riding on the road, do something safer. Then reality kicked into my head – I can not stop riding on the road. I love it. I have never loved another activity as much. When I watched the Hincapie movie and they asked him how he wanted to be remembered I knew what he would say before he said it. It went: 1. – a great father, 2. – an excellent husband, and 3. – a pretty good cyclist. I am paraphrasing his words but that is the gist of it and how I feel about myself as well.
In the end he gave me a ride back to work. The bike has been fixed, the helmet will be replaced, the insurance company is giving me some extra money for no apparent reason (OK, I know why they are) which will go toward some fantastic wool clothing, and I am back to riding. The man who hit me even went so far as to call and check on me later that day…a nice touch I think.
I have always tried to keep a healthy fear in my mind of the dangers of road riding. This has of course added to that fear. It is not hard to see that a few seconds could have made a huge difference either way. I feel very lucky to have come out of this relatively unscathed. I doubt but hope someone will read this that thinks that cyclists are a menace and always at fault and maybe change their mind some…
Meanwhile, keep your eyes peeled while driving around in your car or on your bike.
