love hurts

One minute, we were happily reunited at the end of a long day, looking forward to some quality time together, the next, it was all wrong.  So so wrong.

I was just a poor college student at the time, but life was good.  In about another year, I'd have my degree and be poor student no more. 

That day had progressed like most other days.  A day of classes and homework.  It was late afternoon when I tiredly retrieved my bicycle from the rack and began heading for comfy home.

Pedalling easily across campus, I took in the fresh air and the welcome movement after a day in the books.  It was overcast, like it was going to rain.  I noticed a car headed in my direction.  It was an Audi.  I noticed it begin to turn left.  And keep on turning.

There was no time for me to react, to turn my bicycle or shield myself in any way.  At that point, everything turned all slow motion.  There was the smack of the car hitting my bike.  Slow motion, I was in the air.  Slow motion, I was on the hood.  Slow motion, I was on the windshield.  Slow motion, I was on the edge of the hood.  Slow motion, I dropped to the ground. 

The next thing I remember was people standing over me.  Other students.

"Are you okay??"

*standing and staring*

"I'll be a witness for you!"

And the driver of the car, emerging.  "OH  MY  GOD, Are you okay?!  I didn't see you!  Are you okay?!"

I was a bit dazed and surprised, but otherwise okay.  These days, such a thing just might send me blubbering to my Chiropractor and begging, "Do me!  Do me NOW!"  But back then, yeah I was a bit bruised, but none the worse for wear.

Some of the rubber-necking students helped me up and picked my backpack off the ground.  Ironically, I had landed on my physics book while demonstrating Newton's laws of motion.  Ironically, the woman who hit me did so while making an illegal turn towards the Law building.

I was still feeling a bit dazed, but glad that I really wasn't hurting much.  Then, I picked up my bicycle. 

It was a robust mountain bike - specifically a Specialized StumpJumper.  I'd gotten it second hand at a great price.  I loved that bike. 

And it was broken. 

It couldn't walk roll at all.  The front rim was like a taco, the front fork a nearly useless appendage.  It broke my heart.  My bike had saved me by taking the brunt of the impact.

The Audi driver was still a bit freaked out.  My broken bicycle, I think, actually perked her up because now she could do something to make amends.  She drove me home, all the while, she was talking nervously and continuing to apologize.  All the while, I was wondering if it was safe to be riding with her.

She gave me her address and telephone number, told me to have the bike repaired and she would pay for it.  I took my bicycle straight from her car and transported it to my little hatchback and headed for the bike shop. 

"Do me!  Do me NOW!", I begged the shop guy.  Uhm... for the bike repairs I mean.

It was a few days, but eventually she was back as good as new.  My bodyguard.  Years later, I sold her to a friend of mine in upstate New York who coordinates host families for foreign exchange students.  I recently heard from my friend, and she tells me how the bike is still enjoyed by the many students that shuttle through.  

 

Fresh from the "spa"!

So I'm feeling a little bicycle love today. And I just picked Tessa up from her annual tune up at the shop.

She's beautiful!