No, I’ve not gone on extended blog leave again, and have I got a doozie of a reason for not blogging yesterday:
While biking home on Sunday I was hit by a car door.
Before anyone starts having a panic attack, let me assure you that all body parts are approximately where they should be and while it may have lost a few points in the Kelly Blue Book, my bike also appears to have survived. So, what happened?
I had been out biking, attempting to do my requisite 30 training miles. Conditions were not exactly ideal, but with a little over a month left to go to the
MS150, the time to be choosy is over. The first half of the ride was slightly chilly and a smidge on the breezy side, but I toughed it out to the bottom of the bike path at 71st Street. Turning around to view the city, I saw huge ghostly fingers of fog creeping in off the lake....kinda cool looking, but it meant the wind was shifting off the lake and I was in for a VERY cold ride home. Not disappointed, I arrived at the exit to my house 15 miles later half frozen and looking forward to a nice warm shower.
Heading off the bike path, I turned on to a one-way street just South of my house, as is now necessary due to $100 tickets being handed out to bicyclers who aren’t following traffic laws to the letter. This detour requires me to then turn North onto a very narrow and busy street to go one block and then arrive at my abode. Within sight of my turn, I heard a loud WHOOSH quickly followed by a loud CRACK and THUMP, looking up I had a very sideways view of Broadway Ave. It took a few moments to figure out what exactly had happened, someone had flung their door open and I was very much hurt, bleeding and in the middle of oncoming traffic. The lady who performed this despicable act was somewhat apologetic and called at me from the safe distance of the sidewalk
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Are you ok?” much as one might if they had tipped a glass of water over on you at dinner.
Struggling to my feet, beginning to feel my injuries and bewildered that she wasn’t over there trying to help me up or trying to recruit people to my aid, I lost it. Sobbing and screaming a string of profanity my mother would be thoroughly unpleased with, I said I was NOT %^$#$#@ --*%$#@ OK, WHY DIDN’T SHE *&$#@!@ *&^%$ LOOK before opening a car door on a busy street and don’t bother to try and &^%$#@ help me now, I was going *&^%$#$@ home. Sadly, I don’t believe I was that coherent. Hobbling about a block further to my house I really starting crying and was on the edge of hysterically sobbing when the elevator opened on the 5th Floor to a very surprised Asian fellow....bet he’ll be a little more on guard for overwrought and bleeding tenants the next time he uses the elevator!
After getting my door open and crawling onto the couch I immediately thought to call
Bosco...no good, he was in Waukegan, IL with friends.
Mighty Dave took the first phone call and I’m sure he can attest to my bewailing that barely resembled speech. But, I soon found out he was at work. Minnesota niceness and fear of putting someone out kicked in...
”Oh, it’s probably ok, no don’t leave work to come over, I think I see scabs forming already.” After assuring him that I didn’t believe I had a concussion and would stay awake, he finally let me hang up to call Bosco. In between phone calls I had floundered to the fridge to grab some ice packs, placing these gently on both knees, I assessed the first part of the damage which looked a lot worse covered in dirt. More bawling ensued and Bosco answered the phone to: AWHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH... CAR..... AWWWWWW..... HITBIKE....... AHHHHHWWWWW......HELPPLEASEAWWWWWWW...IT HURTS!
Ridiculously calm, he assured me he was headed back on the next train and would rally troops and to sit tight. A very long hour later, he showed up to a somewhat sedated, but pitiful looking patient....when you don’t have full mobility, you work with what you have, and I was a mess of blankets and icepacks and a tipped over bottle of Motrin.
Many kudos to Mr. Bosco, he cleaned things up, provided proper ice-packs and blankets, a home cooked meal (ok, it was soup from a can...but he did make it!) and assured me everything would heal just fine...I had not looked at my face yet, so this was quite good news.
My finally injury count totals: Contusions on Palms, Knuckles, both Knees, Right Calf, strains in both Wrists, 3 medium-sized lacerations on Right Knee and one large one on Chin. I don’t have details on how the car door fared.
The most amazing thing? While I will throw it out as one is supposed to after an accident, my helmet is in PERFECT condition. No scratches, no dings, no breakage of any sort. A HUGE shout out to the good people at
Bell Helmets, you are fabulous folks and probably saved me a concussion or minor head trauma. Should I decide to get on a bike again, I will most certainly go out and get the exactly same
Arc model I had before.
And lastly, as this has been a long-winded entry and not too kind on my wrists, a plea to anyone out there who doesn’t wear a helmet or only wears one sometimes.....there is one sound that I will
never forget; the *CRACK* of my helmet hitting the pavement which you can feel and hear in your entire skull as it resonates. That
would have been MY skull cracking instead of the helmet’s. I know everyone thinks things happen slow enough that you can dodge and miss them. But, as my injuries indicate, the door was flung on me (into my calf) as I was half past the car, there was no way I could have seen this (looking forward/peripherally, not directly sideways) and avoided a crash. Please? Be safe out there!
