Bumped

There I was, minding my own business on my bicycle, stopped at a T intersection and waiting to turn right.  Along came a 4WD and stopped behind me, waiting to turn right and minding his own business but, as it turned out, not taking much notice of what was in front of him.  Along came a gap in the traffic and out he rolled and bump! right into me.

Well, that was a nice shot of adrenaline, wasn't it?

There I was with the rear wheel of my bicycle jammed under the honking great bull bar of a 4WD and both me and the driver got such a shock that our teeth were chattering.  We unjammed my bicycle and retired to the footpath to swap phone numbers which was quite a challenge given both of us had the shakes.

My pannier rack took most of the damage, and my beloved red taillight was quite removed from its moorings.

I should have taken a picture when it was stuck to the 4WD.  I didn't think of that at the time.

 

"I can fix that for you," stuttered the driver.  "I'm a metalworker."

I wasn't going to let a metalworker who had just bumped into me with his big 4WD get his hands on my precious bicycle, even if he did seem like quite a nice man who was genuinely remorseful and quite thankful that the only thing he had to unjam from his bullbar was a bicycle and no ambulances were involved.

"I'll take it to the bike shop," I said.  "And let you know.  It's the damage I can't see that I'm worried about."

And then I walked home.

I suspect the driver drove home and, still shaking, told his wife that he had hit a cyclist.  And she asked him what happened.  And he said that he unjammed the bike, we exchanged phone numbers, and I walked off.  And she was horrified and asked what if I never made it home? And he felt really guilty because just after I got home he rang to check that I was home and still alive.

I was.  "I'll let you know about the bike," I said.

I sat in the back garden and watched aeroplanes roar overhead on their approach to Adelaide airport.

I felt very fortunate.  Not many people get hit by a 4WD while on their bicycle, and walk away with nothing more than a good story to tell and only (fingers crossed) a bent pannier rack to remember it by.

To finish, a soothing sunset at Grange.