Alfaj0r.com

It was a Friday morning. I woke up, and checked the weather forecast. 70 degrees. Nice!

Riding my bike to work sounded like a good idea, so I geared up and headed out the door. I forgot my helmet, so I turned around to get it, and I was 100% geared up after I strapped my brain armor on.

I was happily riding at a speed of 15 mph, or more, East-bound on 4th street. I was almost to work, but I didn’t know what was about to happen.

A silver Ford Escort suddenly is making a left turn into Record street, coming in from the other side of 4th street. In other words, he was driving West-bound, and made a left turn, thusly having to cross the lane upon which I travel.

Unfortunately for all, he “did not see me”, and I did not have enough time to come to a full stop, or to maneuver around him. Instead, here’s what I did as I noticed that our paths had suddenly crossed, and we were destined for a collision:
I reached for my breaks, and squeezed those puppies like they were my glutes and I was competing for Mr. Olympia.
As my back tire skidded, I realized that I was going to ram into the car anyway. So I did what any reasonable person would do: scream. A guttural and very loud “AAARRRRGGGGGHH” came out, and quickly transformed into a “UUGGHHH” as my front tire hit the front-right of the car, and I flew over my handlebar.
From here, my memories are blurred. It goes from the yelping, to my chin hitting the windshield and then I’m standing there, with my bike on the ground.

The driver of the car stopped his car, and stepped out. He seemed very upset that I would dare run into his vehicle. I reached for my phone, with the intent of making sure I at least got his license plate number… but hey, he didn’t have plates! Dialog ensued:

Me: Where are your plates?
Him: I ain’t got none. What you gonna do, call the police?
Me: Yup.
Him: You got in my way.
Me: I had the right of way. You made a left turn when you shouldn’t have.
Him: Right of way? Haha, get out!

I found it interesting that someone who doesn’t have plates, would be telling me about how the traffic laws go.

And so it was, I called 911. And within minutes, there was a firetruck, an ambulance and two police vehicles. I felt kind of bad that so much attention was being brought, all I wanted was some sweet justice.
The firefighters were the first ones to see me, since their station was a block away, they got there first. They looked at me, asked if I was ok, and kind of looked around. As the paramedics showed up, they left me to their care.
The EMT took a good look at me, and I then realized I had blood on my hands. Shit! My chin! They inspected, and it didn’t look like anything serious. I explained to them that I have some old stitches on my chin (from when I was learning to dive in volleyball… and I wasn’t really getting it, obviously), and that it feels like that’s where the blood was coming out from. They checked my eyes, and made sure I wasn’t about to pass out, and then asked me if it was ok for them to leave, to which I said yes.

Then, the police report. I explained what I was doing, and how everything happened, and the driver of the car was also questioned.
I’m pretty sure they had to explain to him that even though I’m a simple bike rider, I still have rights, and I did indeed have the right of way.
The fact that there was a huge skid mark on the right side of the lane I was ridding in, proved that I was in full compliance with the law.
The cop filing all the paperwork was very nice. He took a lot of pictures, and he also told me that he likes to ride his bike to work. I took that as a good sign, I knew I was in good hands and that the cop wasn’t going to tell me that I don’t belong on the roads or something outlandish like that.

An hour later, papers were served. Once again, I was the witness of someone else being served a citation, and all I got was a receipt of the report. I was sent on my way, and now here I am, finally at work.

My chin is alright, it’s not bleeding profusely, and I’m sure it’ll heal up quickly. Besides, my beard covers it pretty well. I’m sure my neck will be stiff tomorrow, but I feel just fine right now.
I could have walked off the scene without a problem, I stayed because I wanted a police report. I kind of wanted to throw my helmet into his windshield, and ride away. I’m glad I resisted the urge, because there were a lot of witnesses. 4th and Record street is an infamous homeless hangout, but at no moment did I feel unsafe around them.

My bike is also just fine. The hoods of my brakes were bent, but I easily bent them back to where they should go. My handlebar is a little bit off, and not exactly perpendicular to my front tire, but nothing that can’t be fixed with some tools and a good eye. The tire itself is not bent, and as soon as I was dismissed, I rode off, and everything felt and sounded normal.

I’m pretty sure I could go through my insurance to get something out of the poor bastard (he uses ACCURATE INSURANCE), but I won’t. There’s no need. The guy got a lesson on traffic, and a citation as well. Justice was served.

PS: I’m damn glad I look like a retard and wear a helmet. I’d rather look than become one.