jeremygrant.com

Are wild

……..More

to live in a right hander’s world.

I rode about half a mile, stopped and felt my back, right above my shoulder. Something didn’t feel right. I was in denial. Whatever happened back there it had to be just a bruise or misalignment. If it hurt bad when I got to the office I’d go to the hospital and check it out. I could ride–just keep a light grip on the right and I’d be fine.

I passed and saw all the regular regulars that morning. Car traffic seemed so light. I was happy to leave all those roadies behind, riding in their circles — racing in the streets. It was about mile five I started to go into shock.

Acceptance. I must have broken something. I have to get to the hospital. There’s one near the office. The best. I’m in pain — can anyone tell? I’m alone on the road. I’m scared. My plans are screwed. Thankful. I have insurance. Angry that ‘this guy’ had to ride stupid. Where will I put my bike when I’m at the hospital?

The last miles I can’t remember. Unfortunately, the pain I felt when I tried to dismount at the office door was far too memorable. It was pathetic, actually: I spent a few minutes trying this way, that way… It hurt every way I tried. I dropped my bike flat on the ground like an old man and stepped over it and made my way into the office.

“I was involved in a bicycle vs. bicycle hit and run. I am all right. Do you mind helping me with my bike so it won’t get stolen?”

I guess I could have walked or rode to the emergency room; but, I could not deny the friendly drive the four blocks. Believe me, I should have just kept riding. I love that bike.

I couldn’t lift my arm. I held it like a limp doll. A nurse wheeled me from the car to reception. I told them the whole story as they cut my shirt off. As I was wheeled into an exam room I could hear the nurses and doctors speak softly, concerned, outside the door. I guess the pain I saw in their face was the reflection of mine. Someone, sounding convinced, “look, see, he’s holding his arm.” Then some concession, and I had learned my clavicle had been broken.

I banked into the turn, at speed, into the roundabout on Fiji Way. I noticed a few, then more road cyclists, dressed in their racing gear, outfitted with carbon wheels and the like. Not really riding in a group; but, randomly in pairs and solo. I wondered why so many, especially this morning and not like the other weeks of barely ever seeing anyone out*. It was about 7:30am**.

I came up on a handful of road cyclists that were not riding fast or really too slow. No one seemed to be passing each other and me, not wanting to be the jerk to be impatient and pass prematurely, I waited and paced the rag tag group of riders. More riders appeared around me and I thought ‘its not so bad to get a little break from the headwind’. I kept my safe distance from those in front and to the side of me and kept to the right so it would be easy to pass. I was riding my city bike with a rack bag and had my favorite pair of dress slacks on–no need to sweat hard.

The group that had formed around me grew and everyone matched pace. It was loose enough for me to think I could signal my way out of the group and make my turn. The two middle aged, white, roadies on expensive bikes behind and to my left would not budge– even though there was room and they saw my signal– they were too engrossed in conversation. I knew they wouldn’t budge so I gave up and kept riding along. I could see in my rear view that a large group, filling Fiji Way as far as I could see was closing in. No big, I figured they would pass and I’d reroute myself in a bit.

It was about that moment that the whole group started accelerating. I was positioned about eighteen inches from the curb as cyclists started slowly passing me by. Then some roadies started getting to close, brushing my handlebars, passing under my arms, giving me no room to maneuver. It was too much bumping and I could not believe how close everyone was getting.

Here I was riding my bike to work: wanting no part in this spectacle of recreational cycling.

I felt ‘this guy’ shove me with his shoulders from the right as he passed me in the gutter pan. I caught a glimpse of his face. He looked angry. I counter balanced myself to stay upright. “What the fuck!” Then ‘this guy’ proceeded to cut me off, crossing his back wheel against my front. “No! What are you doing?” He paid no mind to my plea. He just kept crossing and I kept countering to stay up right. There was no way I wante to cause a pile up with all the riders behind me. “No!” I tried to slow but I couldn’t break contact. It felt as though it was deliberate. It knew it was just plain stupid. “No!”

I can’t remember what happened next… just the feeling of tumbling, the tingle of pain and the sound of crashing mixed with reactions of roadies passing me by. I was stunned. I found myself in the finely landscaped buffer between the road and the wetlands, laying on top of a bush and covered in dirt. “What happened?”

I gained my senses, checked myself, and could see the big group riding off one hundred meters away. A few stopped. I didn’t see ‘this guy’. Someone readied my bike and another handed me my bag. They didn’t look like roadies. “Are you ok?” I laced a few profanities together as I checked my bike and looked myself over for cuts or scrapes. None. My pants were a little dirty and so was my jacket. I was so glad the pants didn’t rip. One roadie mentioned “they weren’t giving you any room.” My shoulder really hurt. I could ride though, the bike was fine. “I’m fine, my shoulder f’ing hurts though…”

Ten more miles to work. By then I’d know if it was serious or not. It was probably just a sprain and some bruises. No big.

note:

*It was the week before the Southbay Wheelmen’s Manhattan Beach Grand Prix weekend extravaganza.

**the following is taken from the Southbay Wheelmen website:

Pier Ride
When: Thu, June 23, 6:30am – 8:00am
Where: Manhattan Beach Pier
Description: Ride Starts at 6:40am (SHARP) from the Manhattan Beach Pier. Approx 20-30 riders leave the pier and north along the bike path before joining up with another group of approx 20-30 riders in Marina Del Rey. After a loop around admiralty way, the group heads south on Pershing, does a lap out and back along Manchester Parkway (a good spot to catch up to the group if you get dropped), then South again on Pershing before heading back to the Pier along Vista Del Mar (note: some riders prefer taking the bike route, as it can get a bit narrow along Vista Del Mar). This is a hard ride with multiple sprint points throughout. Great for training. After the ride, some of the SBW riders continue on past the MB Pier and continue South up into the PV hills.