XXI
‘Get a bike. You will not regret it ... if you live.'
Mark Twain
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| Me, cycling in the safe English countryside, on a better day. |
It's quarter past four on a Saturday afternoon. Imagine a crossroads near London's centre. One road leads from the Southeast towards London Bridge, the other road from the South towards Tower Bridge, hence called Tower Bridge Road. There is quite a lot of traffic but it could be worse. Now let's have a closer look on the road. Can you see the female cyclist going along the first road, approaching the crossroads fairly quickly? She sees the green traffic light ahead of her and goes for it, hitting the pedals hard. She enters the crossroads whilst the lights are still green.
'I am fast, and I will get to yoga on time. It feels good to finally be able to get to places quicker since I've bought this amazing road bike! It's still green. Let's be quick. What's that? A car. No indication so it will be going straight. No, it's not. It's turning. It's turning and blocking my way. Fuck.'
From up above we can see a black car that is supposedly going straight but then turning right at the very last moment. The driver doesn't seem to be noticing the female cyclist coming towards the car, wanting to continue straight. Unaware, the driver completes its turn.
'I can see it all before me. The pain, the crash, me lying on the floor. It's all so very clear. The mess it will cause. The broken bones. Hurting for ages, not being able to live a normal life. Crutches. Whatever. I curse loudly. My brain reacts as fast as it can to keep the damage low. It tells my hands to pull the brakes like they've never done before.'
The inevitable happens. The cyclist crashes into the back of the car, just as the car has turned and blocked her way. The handle bars slam into the cyclist's stomach, bending them to the right. The young woman falls off the bike, landing on her knees and hands. Like in a trance, she crawls and makes it to the middle of the road to the pedestrian island and lies down on her back. Cyclists and pedestrians, who have witnessed the accident, are approaching.
'What's just happened!? This can't have happened, can it? I'm on the floor and where is my bike? Where is the car? There's people around me, taking off my rucksack, asking me if I'm OK. I can't breathe, something is pressing into my stomach and I pull up my T-shirt. No bruises, so far. I tell them my name. Someone is calling the ambulance. Fuck. I've just had an accident. Was it my fault?'
The driver of the car and her boyfriend have parked their car in a side street and ask if the woman if she is alright. She finally gives them her name, holding her stomach; breathing hard. She is grimacing, apparently in agony; her face as white as chalk.
'My breathing gets easier but I feel terrible. Cars are driving past but friendly-looking people are there, looking after me. I am sorry, I say. Feeling embarrassed. Yes, I think I'm fine. I can walk. I walk to the pavement with my helpers whilst we are waiting for the ambulance to arrive. Was it my fault? What do I do if the car is ruined? What's going to happen? Are the police going to come, too? This is so surreal. The woman next to me, a fellow cyclist, tells me that it wasn't my fault, that she's seen everything and put down the number plate of the car. That it will be alright. A weight drops off my shoulders.'
People have carried the woman's bike across the road and put her rucksack next to her. One of them offers her a bottle of water; she accepts gratefully and drinks. Still pale from the shock, she leans against the fence, then sits down. An ambulance arrives and two paramedics get out, checking if the woman can walk and then helping her inside the ambulance.
'Will people look after my bike? Yes, the police are there now - I can see them questioning the driver through the window. I am checked through by the lovely paramedics. Blood pressure is fine and the pain in my stomach is getting better now. Blood sugar levels are OK, too. Only my knees are a bit grazed. No need to go to hospital, thank God. I will be fine. I will live. Realising the meaning of these words makes me shudder. I could have died today. If my brakes hadn't worked so well the crash would have been worse and I could have hit my head or broken my neck. Bloody hell.'
***
Yes, this woman was me and the accident happened just yesterday. I wanted to write about it while memories are still fresh and emotions are still high. The shock has finally worn off now. I've never had an accident like that before and it made me realise several things:
Firstly, London is a terrible place to cycle in but this accident could have happened in any city. It won't make me stop commuting on my bike but it will make me even more cautious. It means that I will never again trust any other road user but myself.
Secondly, people in London are great. If you need help you can be sure you will get it immediately.
Finally, all these petty little things we complain about are so meaningless. I love my life and the people in it and I want to embrace it all. As I have only this one life I'd better start living every day as if it was my last.
The message to my fellow cyclists in London is: PLEASE TAKE CARE! Eight people have already died this year and I could have easily been number nine. Please follow the link for further reading on how dangerous cycling in London really is:
