Friday night I was hit on my bike by an automobile that made a last minute left turn in front of me on Holton and Glover, just at the top of the Holton bridge. I pay close attention to all aspects of traffic, including oncoming traffic, for reasons like this, but he didn’t give any indication he was turning (like, ya know, a turn signal). Plus this particular area was well lit; I had little to fear.
That is, until he turned into me. It was probably close to a 20mph hit; there are no traffic controls between North Avenue and the end of the bridge, so there is nothing to slow you from going the full 30mph. I knocked it down a few because he was turning.
I laid on the ground dazed and winded. It felt like I had been punched in the groin. The guy kept apologizing and agreeing that bikes and pedestrians had the right of way, and that he wouldn’t be fighting the ticket/insurance/lawyer, etc. The person in the car with him was trying to reassure me that my bike was okay, but I replied that “I do this for a living so I’ll be the judge of that,” knowing full well that there was no way my bike got out unscathed. One of the guys said the wheels weren’t bent, but they’re low end Alexrims, and I doubted him, too. The assailant also started to claim that it was I who hit him. “You know that’s not true,” I begged to differ. Once he said “even though you hit me” my mind flashed back to a recent Spokesmen podcast where James H. Moss, a recreational lawyer said “The first person to call 911 is the story that usually takes precedence.” So he says “even though you hit me” and I just instantly grabbed my phone and called 911, thinking, “Oh know, I’m telling this story.”
My biggest complaint is that witnesses don’t stick around. They think their job is done when the police show up, but that’s the time they’re needed the most. If you witness an accident, PLEASE take one piece of information away from this and STAY ON THE SCENE. Offer the victim your information. FORCE the victim to take your information, because it is important.
Nevertheless when the police officer arrived he was very much on my side. When I explained to him that I had lights (front and rear) and brakes (front and rear and foot) and a helmet, and bright clothing (the bright yellow scarf Morgan knit for me) and in a well lit intersection. I explained to him that he didn’t signal and I was going uphill against the wind that there was no possible way I could have produced enough momentum to run into this car. He agreed and said the guy would likely receive a ticket. He later met up with me at the hospital and gave me a bunch of information and told me to call him anytime.
My friend Marcello booked it down and brought me to the hospital. I checked out the groin pain and the pain creep that was starting to take over my body. My fingers wiggled and my toes wiggled. I could move my knees and shoulders, though they were aching. A headache was coming on and there were light scratches on my back. Everything basically checked out (as in no broken bones), but they guaranteed me a great deal of pain in the next 48 hours and drugs to help keep that under control. We’ll see what niggling issues further develop.
So, long story short, I appear to be relatively fine (for now), but my bike is not. You can see in the photo above how bent the fork is. The fork blades should follow the natural angle of the headtube. Below is further detail of the skewed angle of the fork blades in the following picture. This is what I call “Proof that he hit me.”
The fact that I fell to the side and didn’t go flying over the handlebars is further proof that it wasn’t me causing the accident. Here is perspective without the wheel. You can see the dropouts bent at a slightly funny angle. You can also see the bottom head tube crown has been knocked loose, which I fear is an indication that this bike might be totaled.
I should be able to put my finger between the chain stay and the crank arm, but this is not the case.
Bent fork:
More bent fork:
I’m not entirely sure if the headtube is fucked. I still really want to believe that I can still ride this bike, but it looks like it might be bowed out ever so slightly:
Sadly, my Alexrims stayed god damn true.
There is still some hope. I’m taking it in to a shop to discuss it further. Perhaps I can just replace the fork and crank and everything will be fine. This was the first bike I ever truly loved and I nearly cried when I looked it over. I had big plans for this girl as time went on. Getting rid of the ridiculous colored crap, adding hoods, maybe even re-painting and re-decaling it to restore it to a more pristine former racing glory (although keeping it as a fixed gear).
Damn it all! But the oxycodone is working wonders…
