Just Another Manic Monday

This morning I was driving in to work, and witnessed an accident. I pulled over and waited for the police to come so I could be a witness and give a statement, as it happened right in front of me.

A man was riding his bike against traffic down a hill and was about to cross the driveway to the Walmart. A woman was pulling out of the Walmart, and was going slow as she was entering traffic. She hit the man on the bike, and he went flying off his bike. He seemed to hover in the air before he landed on the pavement, like he was soaring through the air in slow motion. The accident looked staged, like it was a stunt in a movie. The man flew off his bike and landed on his right side on the road. He sat up, and began to rub his right leg where he landed. He stood up and walked to the side of the road. Other witnesses pulled off and called the cops on their cell phones.

The woman from the car was talking to the man on the bike to make sure he was OK. The scene was very calm. The man on the bike was sitting on the curb talking on his cell phone, presumably calling work to say he’ll be late, calling his family to tell him he’d been in an accident. There was no “Hey! Why don’t you watch where you’re going? I am going to sue your ass off!” The only thing that indicated there had been an accident was the mangled bike, still under the front tires of the woman’s car.

I was talking to the other witnesses. One of the witnesses was a man who said that he is a cyclist. He was saying that it was his biggest fear, to be hit by a car. Then he went on to say that he didn’t feel so bad for the man on the bike, because he was riding against traffic. I said to him, “That doesn’t matter to me, I still feel bad for him because he was in a scary accident.”

The ambulance came, the fire truck came, and the police car came. The ambulance crew got the man onto the stretcher after determining he hadn’t broken anything. The police took my statement, and asked me a few questions.

I found it interesting that the cop had asked me “So, the woman in the car was facing the left to watch for the cars, and didn’t see the guy on the bike?”

“You know, I have no idea which way she was looking. I wasn’t looking at her so I cannot say which way she was looking,” I replied. I honestly have no idea which way she was looking. I have closed my eyes and tried to remember where she was looking. I’d hate to think that my statement could get her into trouble because I obviously could not corroborate her story of where she was looking. I can only tell the cops what I remember seeing, right?

“It was an accident. She obviously didn’t see the guy on the bike and she hit him,” I said to the cop. The cop agreed that it is obvious that there was no malicious intent. It was an accident. I left the scene, and went about my commute. But I can’t stop thinking about the accident. Imagine being that man’s family and getting that call “I was on my bike on the way to work and I was hit by a car.” The man was lucky. He didn’t hit his head, he wasn’t wearing a helmet, and he was able to walk off the road to the curb. Imagine being that woman, knowing that she’d hit a man on his bike. I can imagine the accident playing over and over on repeat in her mind all day long, all week long.

Then I got into work and got an email from a man in New Zealand. In his signature on his email it says that his office is on Puke Road. So no matter how bad your Monday is, no matter if you get hit by a car while on your bike, at least you don’t live on Puke Road. No matter what happens, it could be worse.