My last close call was someone pulling out in front of me, from a side street on the right. I already had my hands on my brakes, as I saw the front of the car appear from behind a hedge row. I hit my brakes, and went down. He slowed a bit, as he continued to make a wide left turn, to avoid running me over, as I was finishing my wipe out. He looked up from his phone just long enough, to make momentary eye contact, before driving off. He didn’t even care enough so see if I was ok. 2 seconds earlier, and he would have hit me. 1 second earlier, and I would have slammed into him. Over 40 years of riding, and I’m done with public roads. AND I WAS IN A FREAKING BIKE LANE. I’ve come to the conclusion that no amount of gadgets, or fluorescent clothes, or defensive toughness will save you, when your number is up. As mentioned in a previous post, I’ve already had two friends murdered on their bikes, and more injured, and too many close calls myself. I don’t know how many more I-got-lucky’s I have left, before it’s more than scrapes, a little blood, and some new bike parts. I don’t bounce anymore, and I’m no longer willing to jeopardize our life savings on medical bills or funeral costs… because I think my skills can avoid the reaper. It happens so fast when it happens, and there is nothing you can do about it. It’s all cool, until it isn’t. I’ll train indoors, bike paths, or vacant areas, and race closed course. But putting myself out there in the murder zone, is over.

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Athlinks / Strava