Thursday evening my Specialized Allez Elite road bike and I "met" Sgt. Augustine Garcia's bright red 2008 Scion (Texas plates) at Powdermill (east bound) and 295.
For the record, I had right of way, as he was at a stop sign waiting to make a left turn. He pulled out in front of me to make his left turn, but had to stop suddenly to avoid an oncoming car he noticed suddenly. Also for the record (as all you physics majors know), the laws of physics trump rights of way. My 230 lbs. were traveling 25 mph. I needed 25 feet to stop, but Sgt. Garcia was 20 feet in front of me. To adapt an adage I attribute to my friend Ken Barnes, "You can't put 25
feet in a 20 foot bag." As you mathematics majors would put it: "25' - 20' X (m car - (m road bike + m rider) X 25 mph) = Chuck's got a problem."I skidded 20 feet. Hit his rear left quarter. Detached from bike. Flopped over his rear windshield. Landed solidly on the left side of my pride (buttock) in the middle of several vehicles (all stopped at that moment).
From somewhere, I heard "Sir! Are you alright?" I turned in the direction of the question and saw Sgt. Garcia exiting his vehicle. I looked at him, but did not snap to attention. He barked again, "Sir! Are you alright?" I replied. "I'm not sure." I did a systems check. Not dizzy. Not vomiting. No blood evident. Joints work. Neck's fine. No fabric torn in embarassing places. I stood and walked to grassy area. Told Sgt. Garcia I thought my only injury was a bruised rump. Sgt. Garcia was an EMT. How convenient. Like I always say, "If you're gonna pull out in front of a cyclist and ruin his day, make sure you can get his vitals and stabilize him. Judgement of charity: He was also very concerned, and very apologetic. A Goddard Space Center Policeman (don't have his name) next appeared from nowhere, as did, Officer J.T. White of the U.S. Par
k Police. They informed me that the event took place on the Beltsville Agricultural Research Center (ARC) property, so I had to wait for paramedics to stop and evaluate me. OK. I stood again. Did another systems check. Sore rump. No other problems detected. "Officer Goddard" told me he'd prefer my remaining seated until emergency responders arrived. He had the gun, so I "remained seated" in my bib shorts and Specialized team jersey, taking care that my left "pride" bore as little weight as possible.Two ambulances and three firetrucks arrived in the course of 10 minutes. I declined transport to hospital, indicating my only discomfort was my aforementioned left buttock. A nice lady appeared and said she'd witnessed the event, and offered her information. Sgt. Garcia declined (surprise), but I accepted. Asked her to email me at "'c' as in 'charlie' - 'f' as in 'foxtrot' - 'heidel' as in 'Heidelberg' [she said she'd been there] '@comcast.net'." Another guy appeared with a large first aid kit slung over his shoulder and four bikes mounted on the back of his Ford van. He asked if I needed anything. Nice of him - but I did not require an ice pack, tongue depressors, or tournequet, and none of his bikes would fit me, so I let him go.
I know. I know. Your all wondering "What about the bike?!" Well, thanks for asking. My front wheel is noticeably no longer flat (as to its plane) nor round (as to its circumference). Front fork will need to be replaced. Handlebars were catawampus. Officer White gave me a ride back to the neighborhood, dropping me at the top of the street so as not to alarm family and near neighbors. I stealthily coasted down the street, alarming no one.
Alice asked me how my ride was. Short. Explained it all, and even reconstructed the event using Gifford's Lego Indiana Jones on a motorcycle (me) and Gracie's shoe (Sgt. Garcia).
The bike's in the bike-hospital for a crash assessment, and will need a rim, spoke and front fork transplant.
But, keeping it real, God is good. He spared my life and all my limbs.
