Lesson number one; a truck is a formidable opponent.
Human flesh and bone is no match for a truck moving at speed – probably no match regardless of the speed. For that matter, tar is also a force to be reckoned with. I am an Ironman on paper only, that much is now abundantly clear to me.
My very best ‘tuck and roll’ turned into a ‘tuck and smear’…
Lesson number two; stealth is not to be underestimated.
I didn’t hear it coming. A truck the size of a small building snuck up behind me with the stealth of a hunting leopard, but with 16 times the speed and none of the finesse.
This lesson is self-explanatory, and my bib-shorts are evidence to the lesson.
Lesson number four; disaster strikes unexpectedly.
21 Years of cycling… Accident free and invincible.
I was happily lost in Sunday cycling dreamland. Putting the hammer down on my imaginary cycling partners. Crashes are for all the other cyclists…
Lesson number five; shock and pain are ugly twin sisters.
I still haven’t figured out which was worse; the shock of the unexpected, lying scribbled on the tarmac squinting into the sun, wondering how I’d gotten there. Or the stabbing pain that seemed to come from everywhere all at once.
Lesson number six; pain doesn’t trump outrage and indignation.
The driver didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, not even a smidgen. Neither did any motorist mind you… Who cares about the pain… How dare he!?! Here I am laying in an ugly mess on the tar, the result of his negligence, and he disappears into the Joburg smog.
I swore a lot.
I shouted words I didn’t know that I knew.
Lesson number seven; road rules only apply to those who are pedantic enough to follow them.
I was right, he was wrong. The yellow line belongs to the cyclist. A cyclist takes up an entire lane. Vehicles are not permitted to drive on the left of the yellow line. Well, that’s what the rulebook says anyway…
Truck driver rule number 1: the road belongs to the biggest.
Lesson number eight; the fable that “chicks dig scars” is false.
I have seen no measurable increase in female attention since the incident. In fact if the ugly truth be known, I have seen no attention whatsoever. Which of course makes Keryn very happy…
Personally I’m gutted, good scars have been wasted.
Lesson number 9: there is no lesson number 9, it purely appeals to my OCD nature to have ten lessons.
Setbacks and hardships, accidents and incidents, negative life happenings, can either affect your future, or can mean absolutely nothing going forward besides being a good story. You can decide, it’s actually a choice.
Granted, some incidents are far harder to get through than others, but there really are only two distinct groups of people.
There are those who assume the victim role at any opportunity. They will tell everyone whom they meet about all the negative things that have ever happened to them. They live in the past, and gradually do less and less for fear of all the bad things that might happen, due to all of the bad things that have already happened. Always looking for the next excuse to throw a pity party, they are avid followers of bad news. In fact, bad news seems to follow them.
And then there are those who pick themselves up, brush themselves off and move forward in life. Pragmatic and stoic to the core. Life hands out lemons and nobody ever guaranteed you a free ride nor a pain-free ride in life. They wear the scars as a reminder of what they have been through to reach their present disposition.
They choose to learn from the tough times and avoid the victims. That’s a pretty good motto I reckon. You will always find the bad if you look for it, but guess what, you’ll always find the good if you choose to look for it too.
Hardship produces great character if only you’ll allow it to.
So I choose to accept that the risk of cycling is ‘Tarmac-time’. I am grateful for every moment that I get to spend on the freedom that is a bike. I will take all necessary precautions, and ride defensively, but recognize that sometimes no matter what…life happens. And when it does, I need to climb back on as soon as possible.
And besides, the odds remain in my favour.
21 years, only one measly accident.