As I was making my way to my department yesterday on my bike, I was unfortunate enough to be struck by a car pulling out of a university car park next to the Natural History Museum. They always say that in accidents, the event seemed to occur in slow motion. I remembered the split second before that car hit me from the side and sent me flying through the air. That split second glance and realisation was enough for me to brace myself for the impact, and immediately struggled to get up as the thought of the possibility of being run over by oncoming traffic was none too appealing. Fortunately, it was a Saturday.
"Are you OK?" the bloody driver asked. Why is it that people bother to ask that question?
I got up, picked up my helmet which came off on impact (fat lot of good that did... luckily my head didn't hit the floor... maybe I should get another helmet now). The driver repeated his question.
"No! I am not OK!" I practically shouted, "You just hit me with your car! How do you expect me to be OK???"
A few profanities (from me, mind you) later, I realised we were causing a scene, and a little trail of cars have piled up behind us. I suggested we clear the road. A couple of pedestrians came to aid us. They saw everything and was really concerned for my safety.
I seemed to be in a fairly good shape, though somewhat shaken up. There did not seemed to be a bruise on me thanks to winter clothing... but my wrist where I fell on was hurting... Now my entire arm aches :(
The pedestrians told me I was quite lucky, that I fell "right". Maybe my karate training makes me react quickly? But did advise me to go for a check just in case. But I have decided not to, as the hospital is quite some distance and the thought of waiting in the busy Emergency Department for hours and without a bruise to show would waste everyone's time.
My bike looked fine as well, until we tested it. Turns out that the rear wheel is bent and the gears were goners too. Repairs would cost about £70. I bought my bike for £85 three years ago. I settled for £70 cash instead of the driver paying me for repairs.
My poor bike. I had named it Squeeky as that's what it did the first few months I had it (until I gave it some oil). Squeeky had taken me to so many places in Oxford and had suffered countless abuses from me. Now my half-rusted steed is at the end. You have served me well, Squeeky. Good-bye :_(
Thank you as well to the lovely pedestrian couple who helped me at the scene. The lady gave me a satsuma to calm my nerves and they offered to be witnesses should I find I have more serious injuries.
