Well, it wasn’t my bike. It was wife K’s, but I use it when out running errands.
Crossing at a busy intersection just before noon today – on the green – thinking about how much I’m looking forward to the rest of my day off and about my mountain biking holiday coming up this Friday, and three weeks in Newfoundland next summer, what I should get K for Christmas, and all those sorts of things that just rattle through your head when you’re not focused on anything in particular, when all of a sudden WHAM! The bike simply falls out from under me.
In a flash I’m hitting the ground and land in a heap on the back half of the bike, the front half splayed out in front like some wheezed-out mule.
It just split in two. Just like that.
Sinking to the pavement in the blink of an eye is the last thing you’d expect to happen at any time of day, so for a second or two I just lay there feeling like I’d suddenly found myself underwater, confused as hell and not comprehending.
I get up and realise I’m scraped on the elbow and knees, but I’m more shocked and bewildered than anything. I look around and a lady is asking if I’m all right, another picks up and hands me the air pump that popped from its mooring and skidded away, and then HONK! HONK! Some prick behind the wheel on the cross-street figures I’m taking too long clearing what’s left of the bike off the street, so I should just get the hell out of the road.
Then the cops come over.
I’d seen the pair of them while approaching the intersection, all decked out in their police biking gear and e-bikes to boot. It’s a tall man and a short woman.
“Did you see that?” I ask the man.
“No,” he says, “but looking at your bike – I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Are you injured?” the woman asks me.
“Naw,” I say, pulling up my pant leg, “I’m more shocked than anything. I just can’t believe it.”
By now the male cop is taking out his iPhone and taking photos of the wreck that was wife K’s bike, purchased three and a half years ago after hers got stolen, and only three days ago outfitted with a new front light and internal hub generator. He says he’ll send them to me the photos in a day or two.
“Guess I’ll have to take this in to the shop where I bought it and get them to replace the frame,” I say.
That’s what I did this afternoon.
They were pretty shocked to see the wreck that was a bike as I wheeled it in, the two halves still connected by the brake and gear cables.
I hope they replace the frame at least. It’s just had normal riding around town, nothing out of the ordinary.
The banner photograph shows the town of Britannia Beach, BC, Canada, where I grew up. It's home. But I don't live there anymore.
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