It's funny, the first thing I though about in the seconds before impact was, "oh shit my bike is fucked". Looking back on that now those concerns seem sort of laughable. That was of course before, I saw the blood pouring out of my bike shorts and onto the pavement. The sight of blood has a funny way of making you reassess your priorities. My thoughts quickly turned to, "Oh shit I'm fucked" But even as I lied on the pavement, trying to block the flow of blood out of my side with my bike glove, (which I had lucky just washed) it's impossible to really feel the pain that you actually are in. The power of adrenaline is almost scary. Consider this, I got hit by a smart car making a left hand turn while I was ridding at approx 20 mph, flipped over the top, broke my hip got stabbed by the bike rack, and got thrown down onto my feet.
(my hip- the aftermath)
For the first few second, I almost though that I might be fine. That was of course before I saw saw the blood and before I could, really feel the pain. Now of course reality has set it. I am in pain, my hip is broken, I can't ride my bike, I can't work, and I will be forever plagued by the memory of flipping through the air seconds after making contact. Of laying on the pavement, trying to stop the blood flowing out, and fitting to not pass out. Or the smell of my own decaying flesh, as I pulled my blood covered kit out the bag it was stored in, after I returned home from the hospital. Even though my own situation is kind of a downer. There are other things happening that make me stocked. Like kids getting stocked on fixed gear bikes. All pretenses of style, aesthetics, and money vs sense aside it's just cool to see kids out ridding bikes and stocked on it. Maybe for some its just a fad, but for others it might be part of a life long journey. The beginning of the relationship between a man (or a woman!) and a bike.