It finally happened. I got hit by a car riding my bike to class. Maybe it was karma, for all those times I rode without a helmet. Maybe it was for running all those red lights. Maybe it was for the time I ran over my family with my bike. In any case, it happened.
It wasn't fun. Don't believe anybody when they tell you that being hit by a moving vehicle is an enjoyable experience. They are lying to you. It sucks.
It's really painful. More painful than breaking your wrist (which I've done twice). More painful than watching "Baby Geniuses 2: Superbabies."
Here's the skinny on what happened:
I get ready to leave my apartment for class around 4:30 after a nice long nap. Because I'm riding my bike to class like a nerd, I put on my nerd uniform (jean shorts, wolf-howling-at-the-moon sweatshirt and black leather tennis shoes). Because it's pretty cold out, I also don my woolen fanny pack.
I proceed down Rugby Road from my apartment, which is just north of Grady Avenue. I'm listening to my iPod, so I can't hear anything other than the sweet tunes of the "Final Fantasy VIII" soundtrack in my ears.
Everything is going swimmingly, until I come to the intersection of Rugby and Culbreth Road (which is closed). Because Culbreth is closed, afternoon traffic going towards Grounds on Rugby gets more backed up than my intestinal tract after a trip to Raising Cane's.
So somebody stuck in traffic going south on Rugby decides to be nice and lets somebody going northbound make a left turn into Culbreth (despite the fact that the road is closed). That's when the magic happens. And by magic, I mean horrible, horrible collision. I'm riding in the bike lane on the right side of the road, and the person driving the car going to Culbreth doesn't stop to look to see if any bikers are coming. Next thing I know, I'm unintentionally ghostriding someone else's whip. And by ghostriding, I mean I'm sprawled out on the windshield and hood writhing in agony.
Shockingly, the only injury I sustained was a badly sprained ankle. There were many helpful witnesses (thank you, to all that were there), so an ambulance arrived within minutes. I was helped off the car by a couple of strong passersby, who let me fall to the ground once they realized I was wearing a woolen fanny pack. The only thing that really hurt was my ankle. The EMTs were hesitant to come to my aid, on account of my garb, but quickly realized they were legally obligated to help me.
I actually turned down a trip to the hospital in the ambulance -- partially because I'm pretty sure the adrenaline in my system prevented me from truly feeling the magnanimity of the pain in my ankle. I figured I could simply head over to Student Health the next day and get some X-rays.
I was wrong. I got back to my apartment and realized after I took off my shoe that my ankle was the size of pre-weight loss Anna Nicole Smith. I decided to go to the hospital to get it checked out.
Diagnosis: badly sprained ankle and some minor scrapes here and there. My bike is also royally f***ed up. Even with all that damage, I think my dignity took the biggest hit during the whole ordeal. I mean, who gets hit by a car? There's no excuse for me. I'm not blind or deaf. I don't live in the IRC. Even though I still can't walk correctly, and my bike looks like Louie Anderson sat on it, I can't help but feel that I somehow got stronger after being struck by a vehicle. It's a badge of honor. I've joined a select group of people -- the people in the Facebook group "Hoos been hit by a car?"
So bikers, please wear helmets and watch out for cars. Drivers, drive safely and make sure you're not running into bikers like me. Hopefully my message can help prevent future accidents, but I doubt anybody actually reads this thing anyway. In any case, everybody be safe. And if any of you out there are planning on getting into collisions, just make sure you don't wear nerdy clothes.
Brendan's column runs alternating Mondays. He can be reached at collins@cavalierdaily.com
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