iCrash

Going for a bike ride on a Saturday morning is supposed to be relatively relaxing, stress-free and quiet.  This morning I found myself outside, wrapped up warm in a long-sleeved shirt, with long gloves and in fresh air.

It was a nice day outside for winter.  -3 degrees.  No rain (yet).  No snow (yet).  No ice (well, maybe on the grass). 

I was relaxed. I was happy.  I was going along at a nice speed, once again marvelling at the fact that there are so many tough hills around where we live now.  You can't go more than a mile from our house without hitting a hill of some sort... and the further away you get, the worse the hills.  

But I managed.  And I enjoyed it.

And then I got on a straight.  It wasn't a hill. It wasn't a downhill.  It was flat and I was in a 60mph zone which I knew I wasn't going to hit, but it did make the likelihood of a lot of traffic a lot less and I knew there would be no cars parked in the road.

So I was having fun.

I spotted a policeman and thought to myself 'Ooer! I don't have to slow down because there is NO way I could be over the speed limit!'.  In fact, I wasn't even going 30mph at this stage.  I considered waving at him, but then had a rethink and just smiled.

As luck would have it, 150m or so later, still at a great than 20mph speed, but smaller than a 30mph speed, I had to break and swerve.  Next to this road there are houses built.  And from one of these properties ran a toddler.  A small child that seemed very determined to make like a chicken and get to the other side of the road. 

As she was running toward my right, I figured that braking and swerving to the left (this was an instant decision) was probably the more logical of things to do.  I braked and swerved, only to find the mother figure of said child running out of the property as well.  At this stage, I grabbed my front brake and squeezed with all the might in my hand. 

As it goes, this meant that my back wheel wasn't going to be happy with staying on the road.  I tumbled. And turned. And felt my helmet hit the ground and then my back and oh no! my feet are no longer inside my shoes...

Somewhere in-between all this someone started screaming like mad.  Motherly figure was standing relatively close by, screaming at me as if I was the one that had just done an utterly irresponsible thing. I wasn't the one that just ran into a road!

My head was hurting and I wasn't really sure of what was happening, but I heard a male voice tell the female to keep quiet and calm down.  Then the same male voice asked me if I was ok. Did I need a doctor? An ambulance? The policeman had come to my aid.  As I said that yes, I was ok, I didn't need a doctor and no, I didn't need an ambulance, mother hen started yapping and yelling away again. 

I pulled myself onto the curb and started inspecting my bike which had my shoes still attached to it.   It was ok.  Phew! I didn't have to phone Andy to get him to pick me up.  I was going to be able to peddle back home without help. I wasn't giving the hysterical woman much notice at this stage, because honestly, I was afraid I might say something that I shouldn't.

The policeman made sure I was ok and then walked over to the mother, who was clutching her child to her side.  I can't recall the exact words, but he said something in the region of 'If she was driving a car instead of a bike, you both would be dead now.'  I hadn't thought about that, but oh my word, that would've been awful.

Ten minutes later I was on my way home.  My back stinging and my arms feeling like they had just been used to clean all the dishes in a small hotel.  I got home and Andy inspected me.  I somehow managed to not have 1 single scratch on me, other than the ones on my helmet.  Thank you for small miracles!

I can understand that the woman acted out of maternal instinct to protect her young ones, but maybe they should invest in a good, strong gate and keep the kids inside.  I hate to think what could've happened if there was a car right behind me, or if I was driving a car.  But everyone's ok, and that I can be thankful for.