NEAR TRAGEGY

I heard it before I saw it.  Thick traffic in Kingston, Ontario.  A young woman turned into the lane right behind me.  Cars were bumper to bumper, university students just out of class had formed their own traffic flow.  Horns.  Lights. Then the accident.

She was a fifteen, maybe sixteen year old young lady.  A block later I heard that thud and scrape sound.  You don't want to look back, but you know.  I suddenly felt nauseous.  I pulled the brake levers, stopped abruptly, and looked back all within a second.  The gal was sprawled spread-eagle on the pavemnent, her bike laying to the side.  Then I saw the driver jumping out of the car, saying, Oh my God!  What have I done?  Are you all right . . . are you all right . . . are you hurt!  

 The hit cyclist got up slowly.  I looked for the appearance of broken bones, Rick and I ready to assist.  But she got up, oblivous to the driver and the gathering crowd, and stumbled off the road.   I think she was in shock.  So was the driver.  I have never seen such a pathetic, fear-filled face than the driver's.  It was a close call.

No matter how insulated we are or how unrisky our days are, we are never more than one mistake away from tragedy, from today being the final day of our life.   That's sobering, for sure.  And when you are on a bicycle, the risk goes up exponentially.  We don't have air bags, seatbelts, or doors to protect us from tons of metal hitting us.   Unfortunately, the girl had not signaled when she turned left. That one tiny omission of not putting her hand out could have been fatal.

So when you get up each morning, make sure that you know who is walking with you into the new day.   For me, I have never forgotten Stewart Hamblin's old tattered phrase, I don't know about tomorrow, but I know who holds my hand.

Hope you do too.