Basically, I got hit by a car.

Here's the whole story. All of it is truth, I kid you not, and there are two very awesome guys who witnessed it who could back me up if you wish to contact them:

I was riding my bike at about 7:00 last night (which was Sunday night, I wrote this the next day). It was fairly dark out, but a full moon and streetlights provided enough illumination for any half-witted driver to see me. Oh, and I suppose the reflectors on my bikeoughtta help too. Maybe I'm dreaming.

At any rate, I'm on the sidewalk, traveling down a street. There comes a point in front of me where the street I'm riding parallel to turns to the right while still running straight as well. So, for little old me on the sidewalk, I simply make sure no one is going to turn into the turn as I quickly pass over the street width wise. As long as I'm not stupid and all the kiddies in the cars play nice, everyone can safely navigate this very simple T intersection. Actually, more like Ŧ if the small line in the middle is my humble bike path.

So, I glance up ahead of me first. One pair of headlights. No turn signal. I consider him ignored. A glance behind me reveals another pair of headlights and no signal. Even if the guys behind me were gonna turn, though, there was every reason for them to see me and be able to slow down if worst came to worst. I had the right of way, as it were.

Anyways, as I popped off the sidewalk and began crossing the street, I notice the pair of headlights in front of me start to turn. Now, I don't know if you guys have heard this or not, but it's a widely accepted fact that events such as car accidents are witnessed to the victims in slow motion and remembered as such. I was no exception. I had enough time to process three thoughts.

1. He's turning. Why is he turning? He has no signal! He's not supposed to be turning!!
2. I do NOT have enough time to react to this.
3. This is not going to end well.

Sure enough, right about as the third thought is leaving my head, my worst fears are realized. I'm hit by a CAR! But...I'm ME! I'm invincible! I don't break bones! I don't get into accidents! I'm just me, nothing significant (or bad) happens to me! Of course, by now, I'm face down on his hood...

What happened was his right front corner brushed my front tire out of the way. As a result, the handlebars are instantly jerked from my control and the wheel is instantly whipped around. I continue to fly forward as the bike is sent skittering along the ground, coming to a stop about 15 feet away. I land face first on the hood of the guy's car, and the force of his car continuing right along under me sends me rolling up his windshield, onto his roof, and off his trunk. You can probably picture the spectacle in your head. It was intense, and the whole time I'm thinking "NONONONO THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING!!! AHHHH WHAT HAVE I DONE?"

The car which was behind me contained two very awesome, helpful gentlemen who quickly rushed onto the scene for my help. They had witnessed everything, and just to give you some perspective on the crash, they thought I was going to requiremedivac to get me out. :-| Good thing I didn't ;)

There's a looooot of helpful factors that lined up in order for me to emerge practically unscathed from the crash. One was GOD, obviously, who orchestrated all the rest of them :D The first and most obvious factor was that I was not "T-boned". That would have devastated my leg and side, and also would have pinned me to his car and sent my upper torso against the hood of his car, ending with my head onto or through his windshield. Um...ouch?

Another was the fact that I didn't land badly. As a matter of fact, I landed on my FEET! I don't even REMEMBER landing, but the witnesses both told me I landed on my feet. Which makes sense; I don't remember landing any other way. Had I landed on my butt or my back, my head would have soon followed, being smashed into the ground. Horrifying, yes. But I wasn't wearing a helmet. THAT is the single best part. I wasn't wearing a helmet!! I made a joke not too long after the crash to the two guys who helped me out "Who needs helmets anyways?" They both gave me nervous laughs like "Wow I can't believe he just made that joke after going through THAT..."

But joke I did. I kinda brushed myself off after the whole thing and said to myself, "I'm....fine....that's odd." I looked myself over? No cuts. I couldn't find blood anywhere. About the time the guys came to ask if I was alright, the shock kind of set in and I fell on my butt for about a minute, unable to think anything other than "I can't believe that just happened" and "Why the HECK am I okay?"

Of course, this happened after I had been biking for three miles or so. Endorphins long since had kicked in, inducing a runner's high, increasing pain tolerance among other things, not to mention all the adrenaline pumping through my system didn't wear off for three hours... But anyway, I was seriously unharmed. I later discovered one cut on my elbow, wrist, knee, and ankle. Not only that, but the one on my ankle was the only one that wasn't laughably irrelevant.

While one guy checked up on me, the other guy went to hunt down the driver who ran into me. The man hadn't stopped and THEN decided to stop like 20 meters off. Our first thought was "Hit and run you &&%$%$&*&$???!!!" and then "Wait he's not doing it right..." as he pulled over to the side of the road and proceeded to get out. He comes over.

72 year old man. Raced racecars in Europe for 13 years. 12 accidents in his racing career, no public accidents in his life. Wow, right? Well, the second witness came back first and told me how his car looks worse than I do, which I replied with a "You're damn right it does!" 3 dents andtiremarks. Hooyah.

Anywho, the driver quickly followed my helpful witness and began babbling apologies and explanations. He seemed nice enough, though utterly bewildered at the whole thing. He kept repeating the same things over again; he could not comprehend what had happened, couldn't get over the fact that he hadn't seen me, and needed the story explained thoroughly to him multiple times before being able to grasp what occurred. I thought it odd but figured he was an elderly and shellshocked gentleman. I'd let it slide, though I was growing increasingly annoyed that the guy wouldn't shut up. I didn't lose my temper at all. I was making jokes and playing off like I was fine. And I was fine. But I wanted to go home now. Let him deal with his own damage since it was his fault and we all knew it.

I needed my parents to bring our trusty station wagon to bring me home, though. Er, me and the bike (which, by the way, I easily fixed on the scene of the accident and works good as new). This was the entertaining conversation on the phone:

First, the phone rings four times and no one answers. I call again, and mom picks up.

Me: Mom, I just hit a guy's car (the two witnesses both shake their heads), er, I mean, he hit me (both witnesses nod their heads).
Mom: (disbelieving) You hit. A guy's. Car?
Me: Yeah. I'm Old Stockbridge [road]. Can you send the stationwagon and come pick me and the bike up?
Mom: ...........(sigh) coming.

:D It made me laugh. I tried to sound as low key as I could. I left out the whole "I just cinematically bounced all the way over a guy's car and landed on my feet" part. No need to scare her or anything. I mean, seriously, I felt FINE. I just wanted to go home.

After that, dad showed up eventually. With a flashlight, that boy scout ;) He inspected the man's car, chatted with all four of us, and eventually decided the cops were required when the driver told us he had had 2 beers before driving. THAT explains why he was a bit out of it, and that seemed to click with everyone except me until the cops gave him a field sobriety test, which he failed. He got the handcuffs, stuffed in the police car, the whole shabang. After that, lots of deliberating, talking to the witnesses who were both two really awesome people, and typical bureaucracy associated when police get involved. All in all, everything was fine. The guy's wife showed up very quickly, took the car away, provided insurance information, and that sort of thing. Everything I left out for you guys is essentially irrelevant, though it was a very interesting experience. All in all, I had the four minor cuts, and my left leg is awfully sore, but I've seriously had worse pain in my leg from soccer injuries. I'll definitely live.

Flipping and tumbling through the air in slow motion, seeing everything from the perspective of the victim instead of from a filmed YouTube video or something, was fascinating. And I'll never forget my thoughts racing as I'm being thrashed about on top of a car just thinking "I can't believe this just happened" and then thinking "....why am I ok after that?" I was a bit shook up, or "dazed" as one of the witnesses wrote in his account for the police. But I just checked to make sure my iPod/headphones were in order (which they were, fancy that), that my phone was working, and that once I discovered a bleeding knee, I made sure my shorts weren't getting bloody. I mean come on, I just got hit by a car. That's what's most important, right?

Turns out the shorts got torn all the way up the side. They're ruined. What the heck. I tried really hard not to get blood on those.