I'm over halfway through Iowa now (Nov 16), but there is a storm coming this morning so I have decided to hunker down for an hour or two, let the rain pass, and get some writing done.
Let's start with the evening of Nov 12. I had biked from my last Nebraska camp in Schuyler, gone through Fremont, and was on route 36 heading for Bennington and North Omaha.
Then I was hit by a car.
The man who hit me goes by the name of Trinidad, and it really wasn't his fault. Two vehicles ahead of him someone turned without signaling making the vehicle ahead of him slam on the brakes, leaving Trinidad with a choice of either swinging into oncoming traffic or swinging onto the berm. Given the angle and the other vehicles, he couldn't see that I was on the berm until it was too late.
Then I was hit by the car.
Scratch that. The bike was hit by a car. I evidently made some wild leap at the last second, and, after flying through the air, landed safely on my feet just beyond the accident. I like to imagine I soared like an eagle but I'm pretty sure it looked more like the wild flailings of someone who just shouldn't be on the high dive to begin with.
I say "evidently I leapt" because its hard to remember exactly. I heard the screeching brakes, looked behind me, and time slowed down.
"That car is about to hit me," I recall thinking.
Then time sped up.
The next clear memory I have is me standing beside the car with that thrill one gets as death or injury is narrowly evaded.
Trinidad was incredibly apologetic and very glad that I was okay. I rode the bike a few yards to see if it was still working properly (he hit it square on the back tire and it launched forward like a spring) and everything seemed good. Trinidad gave me his number just in case and I gave him mine. He reassured me several times that I could call him if anything went wrong.
Trinidad drove off then, and I swear I didn't make it ten yards before I noticed the rear wheel was rubbing the brakes. I flipped the bike over, spun the wheel, and sure enough it was bent. I probably would have noticed sooner but the adrenaline was still going.
About this time Officer Johnston (or was it Johnson) showed up.
"Pardon me, Sir, but were you just hit by a car?"
"Yes Sir, that was me."
I explained to him what had happened, reassured him that I was not in need of medical attention, and told him I was just about to call Trinidad and see if he would give me a ride to the nearest bike shop.
File this use of motorized transport under "life threatening circumstances" or "compliance with local authorities" because neither the officer nor myself wanted to see me carry a busted bike ten or fifteen miles into town.
Long story short, I called Trinidad, called a few bike shops, and got a ride where I needed to go.
Officer Johnston let me sit in the heated cruiser until Trinidad arrived and even held a light for us (it was getting dark by then) as we took the wheels off and put the bike into Trinidad's back seat.
The shop I ended up at not only served coffee and baked goods but was also staffed by awesome people. More on this next post. :)
Thought for the day: Leaping high and clear of imminent automotive wrecks makes one feel awesome regardless of the amount of flailing involved.
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