killer car
Well, I got hit by a car again. It's pretty stupid, but I thought you should know.
It was Thursday evening, and I was biking home from work. The intersection of 12th and O is a four way stop two blocks from my house — actually three-way, I suppose, since 12th is a one-way street that runs North. I was headed East.
And I was good! My cyclist-lawbreaking apologism notwithstanding, in this case I played by the rules. I got to the intersection and stopped, or at least slowed as close to a stop as a bicycle can while maintaining enough gyroscopic mojo to stay upright. The car to my right went through the intersection and I then proceeded. I was surprised to see the next car begin accelerating, but to be honest my first thought was Oh no you're not: this is usually the point at which the driver stops short, and I take smirking pleasure in knowing that another motorist has been shocked and angered by a momentary awareness of drivers' perpetual irresponsibility.
Except this time the car didn't stop. It sped smoothly into my bike's front wheel, flipping me around and depositing me on the pavement. I'm not sure exactly where my body went in relation to the car, but I know the other guy left the intersection without a driver's side mirror.
With characteristic wit I screamed MOTHERFUCKER and wandered shakily out of the intersection. This is the wisdom I can offer about unexpected physical trauma: you're suddenly going to be stuffed full of adrenaline, and that's going to make you quite bad at thinking and evaluating your physical state. The best you can hope for is recognizing your own impairment and prioritizing a few key things. In this case that meant pushing through my sudden kinetic confusion and getting down the car's tags. Because at that moment the driver showed no signs of stopping.
Eventually he did. There was nowhere to go, for one thing — traffic ahead; angry, honking motorists behind. And I'm now inclined to think he was even more shocked and confused than I was (motorists: exactly like bears). He eventually stopped about halfway down the block. I called 911, and there was a cruiser on the scene before I had even hung up. The cop took my statement and that of a nice lady who'd been kind enough to stop, make sure I was okay and then take some photos of the scene.
Eventually the other driver came over. He was an enormously tall African gentleman, seemingly near retirement age. He appeared to be heading home from his job as a security guard, and it looked like he was blind in one eye. He was taciturn, shocked and withdrawn, but through embarrassed mumbles he said he was sorry; he thanked God for protecting me, and hoped aloud that he would bless me further; he said that life is the best, most important thing. He hoped that I would forgive him.
In short, he did not seem to be the type of guy whose personal misfortune could be considered a karmic positive. So although I still felt pretty pissy as we shook hands, I also knew that it wouldn't last. I plan to talk to his insurance company about the $150 worth of attention that my bike needs, and EchoDitto wants me to make some inquiries about their dinged-up laptop, so I guess I'll be doing that. But otherwise the upshot was just a sore knee, shin and shoulder. I still made it onto that evening's 8 p.m. Chinatown bus.
So while I'm dreading the coming insurance-wrangling, it wasn't too bad overall. Certainly it was better than when I got hit by a cop car in high school — that hurt my body and my bike less, but also ended up with me getting a ticket and my dad having to threaten a lawsuit to get the Arlington County Police Department to stop sending us bills for unrelated damage to the cruiser. I think I'm getting a hang of this vehicular catastrophe business, and am hopeful that by the next time I'll really have the routine down pat.
Oh! I should also draw your attention to the lack of "head injury" in my list of woes. I haven't pored over my helmet yet for signs of impact, but this story could've been a lot less happy (although also perhaps less overwritten) if I hadn't been wearing it. So, you know: embrace the dorkiness.
Comments
I'd imagine you'd have a lot to say on the subject of bloroplopes.
I'm glad you're OK! This post slightly softened my firm conviction that wearing a bike helmet makes you look like a dork. Maybe looking like a dork is OK if it means you don't die.
Have you considered a hoverbike?
Well-told... It's nice that the driver did not turn out to be a monster, but OTOH it sounds like he would have kept going if he could have. Glad he has insurance.
The exact same thing happened to me years ago while living in California. She was more shaken up than I was. She drove me to the hospital and was very nice.
Then her insurance company sends me a bill for $1000. I was a college student and I didn't know what the hell to do. I called the insurance company because I was never asked my side of the story. I called several times and they were total dicks. Then, they stopped returning my calls. So, I wrote a letter to the Department of Insurance, made copies of all correspondence, and, suddenly, the insurance company is calling me. I kept ignoring them. They wanted to tell me that they were going to drop the case against me. I told them to fuck off.
I never had to pay them, and a few months later, I saw a story in the paper about how corrupt that company was and how weirdly cultish its management was. Ah, schadenfreude.
got hit by a car 'again'?? i didn't know you had gotten hit by a car before
When the adrenaline finally leaves your system, consider pushing the insurance company for a new bike. Once the alignment is blown, it's never gonna make you happy. I've, unfortunately, had a lot of experience with insurance companies and they can do lots of things that they won't volunteer on the first round.
Glad the driver apologized. Makes me wonder if perhaps he didn't "see" you because he'd been on a cell phone...? Seems like everybody is these days, despite the DC "hands free" law. I guess we'll never know.
Congrats on making it through!