It is surprisingly warm to be so early in the morning. While I adjust the height of my seat post, sweat begins to form on my brow, just under the rim of my world champion striped helmet. It is Monday, and I am getting set for my daily commute to the office.
After checking the tire pressure of both wheels, I throw my leg over the chrome top tube of my ride. Despite getting too much sleep, I am feeling solid and start to roll on.
My Nike Dunk Gyrizo’s clip in to the pedals with ease, and I check my seating position one more time after a couple of revolutions in the saddle.
“Hmm, not quite right”, I think to myself.
Tapping out a cadence on Broadway, I am already annoyed that I’ve lowered my seat too much. My thighs are starting to burn, too early, and despite being clipped into my pedals, I am not getting a strong pull all the way around.
I try to ignore the fact that I spent thirty minutes adjusting my seat just this past weekend and it still feels uncomfortable. The breeze as I roll down Holland street does little to cool my head while the smell of breakfast wafts out of Renee’s Cafe, dancing in my nostrils for just an instant.
Once I hit Davis Sq. my stride comes of age and I begin to concentrate on the road ahead. There are no red lights just outside the square, and I turn it up just a little bit to see if I have got the legs to go hard this morning. The gusting headwind gives me an excuse to ease back as I weave my way through to Beacon Avenue and mentally welcome the downward slope towards Hampshire Boulevard.
Traffic is light as I keep my legs turning, the Bianchi rolling at 20mph according to the telltale speed-o-meter anchored on the side of the road. I move into the center of the lane, about a hundred yards ahead of the stoplight at Beacon and Kirkland.
The green light I have been staring down changes to yellow, and I am about ten feet away from the line, so I decide to sprint it out thinking this will motivate me to hammer up the slight incline on the other side of the crossing.
Halfway through my sprint, I notice a blur to my right. Out of nowhere, this toaster of an automobile, the driver doing his worse to anticipate a green light, had mashed-it-on the gas and gunned my lane, driving right across my line.
From my perspective I had no time to tap the front brake and tried to avoid a collision by turning the wheel. My body was quick to judo-flip over the handlebars when I went into the turn too hard.
A lil’ tuck-n-roll, a lil’ hip, a lil’ pelvis, and my somersault had landed me in the middle of a four-way stop. I had time to see my bike continue its olympic gymnastic tryouts a few feet in front of me.
The first crash on my fixed-gear, and a spectacular one worthy of campfire stories when I am old. There was a salad in my messenger bag, which apparently got tossed pretty well, too.
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Tossed Salad Crash, a non-fiction short-story work in progress. copyright © 2008, Do You KNOW Clarence?™ All rights reserved.
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Well….the helmet on, big PLUS. Thank YOU for that. I felt as if I was on that bike with you; that “blur” caused me to pause and hold my breath for the next line. Yes, I was truly “waiting to exhale”. Keep writing and BE SAFE!………Mo-T.
Ouch! Glad that you didn’t hurt yourself (too much). Keep safe.
…and you made us wait until the very end to get the tossed salad significance ;-). glad you’re ok though big fella. keep it safe.
JNez, did you only read for the tossed salad, bruh? ;)
Shit man, hell of a damn story but glad you are ok and made it through it in one piece.
Whoa. Thank goodness you’re okay!! Did the bozo even stop to find out if you were hurt? How’s you’re ride?
Boston drivers are dangerous to an exponential degree and in imaginative ways. I am glad you are safe and riding strong!
Ben, Hmm, he did stop to find out, but asked me after he said, “My light was green“. My ride is good; did a hard ride last night and it held up fine. ‘preciate you checking in.