First crash—and it was a doozy. Happened Tues, Oct 13. Some of you might remember that I was the guy who pointed out that bikers can now treat stop signs as “yield” signs in Washington State. So, ironically, my crash involved an intersection where I did not have the right of way. But it did not involve running the stop sign. Quite the contrary, I had stopped and looked very carefully both ways.
The problem was I was unable to see clearly traffic coming from my left. This was on NW Avenue in Bellingham, and the cross street was E. Connecticut. I was heading west. NW just to the south of Connecticut makes about a 45 deg. turn (technically, Elm turns into NW at that point—Bellingham is a crazy town). On the east side of NW, south of Connecticut, is a tap room, one of my favorite stops before covid19. And all along the street in front of the tap room were parked cars, patrons of said tap room. They blocked my view of traffic coming around that bend.
So after checking carefully both ways, I shot out onto NW and crashed into the side of a passing car. I didn’t get more than a split second glimpse of that car before all went blank. I woke up as the EMTs were loading me onto a gurney for the trip to the ER. Don’t know how long that was, but there are fire departments both directions on NW that are less than 2 miles distant, so it couldn’t be more than 5 minutes or so. As I was being loaded up, I could see a fireman picking up my bike. As I was returning from a shopping trip, my cargo bags were loaded with groceries, which apparently got home okay; even the beer seems to have made it. My wife said that as she walked the bike out back to put it in the shed, it seemed to roll okay, but for a ticking sound. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet, but I suspect a bent front wheel, and I’ll carefully check for any cracks in the frame. The bike, by the way, is an Ariel Rider C-class, which I was (am, because I intend to get back on it as soon as possible) enjoying very much.
The damage to me was a mild concussion, broken pelvis, and bruised ribs on my upper left side. Bruises often appear slowly, and this morning I noticed a massive one on my left chest. It’s sort of sore there, but a CAT scan at the hospital shown nothing broken. I did not “fall” off the bike, but rather the collision slammed me forcefully onto the pavement on my left side, because that’s where all the damage is. My helmet suffered contusions and abrasions on its left side, too. Glad I was wearing that thing.
Lesson learned: beware intersections where you can’t be sure of traffic. I can avoid the NW-Connecticut one by crossing a block further south, where I can see clearly both directions. I could also have used the crosswalk at Connecticut (would have walked the bike across, not ridden). As for the financial damages, the insurance people are sparring over that. Could be a substantial hit. My next missive may be from deptor’s prison.
And a philosophical note for those who are into such things. During my blackout period, there was nothing but blackness. No light at the end of a tunnel, nor any flames of hell. Just nothing. If I had been dead, it would have been the most instant death imaginable—no fear or regrets, no lamenting my misspent existence, not even any pain. Just silence and nothingness. My wife, by the way, gets a little upset when I say this to her.
I’ve been home since Friday, and seem to be healing up nicely.
The problem was I was unable to see clearly traffic coming from my left. This was on NW Avenue in Bellingham, and the cross street was E. Connecticut. I was heading west. NW just to the south of Connecticut makes about a 45 deg. turn (technically, Elm turns into NW at that point—Bellingham is a crazy town). On the east side of NW, south of Connecticut, is a tap room, one of my favorite stops before covid19. And all along the street in front of the tap room were parked cars, patrons of said tap room. They blocked my view of traffic coming around that bend.
So after checking carefully both ways, I shot out onto NW and crashed into the side of a passing car. I didn’t get more than a split second glimpse of that car before all went blank. I woke up as the EMTs were loading me onto a gurney for the trip to the ER. Don’t know how long that was, but there are fire departments both directions on NW that are less than 2 miles distant, so it couldn’t be more than 5 minutes or so. As I was being loaded up, I could see a fireman picking up my bike. As I was returning from a shopping trip, my cargo bags were loaded with groceries, which apparently got home okay; even the beer seems to have made it. My wife said that as she walked the bike out back to put it in the shed, it seemed to roll okay, but for a ticking sound. I haven’t had a chance to look at it yet, but I suspect a bent front wheel, and I’ll carefully check for any cracks in the frame. The bike, by the way, is an Ariel Rider C-class, which I was (am, because I intend to get back on it as soon as possible) enjoying very much.
The damage to me was a mild concussion, broken pelvis, and bruised ribs on my upper left side. Bruises often appear slowly, and this morning I noticed a massive one on my left chest. It’s sort of sore there, but a CAT scan at the hospital shown nothing broken. I did not “fall” off the bike, but rather the collision slammed me forcefully onto the pavement on my left side, because that’s where all the damage is. My helmet suffered contusions and abrasions on its left side, too. Glad I was wearing that thing.
Lesson learned: beware intersections where you can’t be sure of traffic. I can avoid the NW-Connecticut one by crossing a block further south, where I can see clearly both directions. I could also have used the crosswalk at Connecticut (would have walked the bike across, not ridden). As for the financial damages, the insurance people are sparring over that. Could be a substantial hit. My next missive may be from deptor’s prison.
And a philosophical note for those who are into such things. During my blackout period, there was nothing but blackness. No light at the end of a tunnel, nor any flames of hell. Just nothing. If I had been dead, it would have been the most instant death imaginable—no fear or regrets, no lamenting my misspent existence, not even any pain. Just silence and nothingness. My wife, by the way, gets a little upset when I say this to her.
I’ve been home since Friday, and seem to be healing up nicely.
