Today, I experienced my first bike crash, an experience I wish upon no one as it was one of the scariest moments of my life. I’m not even quite sure what happened but I know there was a truck, an orange sign, and a girl on her bike (that girl would sadly be me).
I was riding south on the PCH back home to Santa Monica and for those who are unfamiliar with the Pacific Coast Highway, let’s just say it isn’t the most fun road to ride as you have four lanes of traffic, cars parked on the right, rocks-mud-sand and whatever else falls from the steep cliffs above and then there’s construction and all sorts of holes and lumps. So, why even bother riding on this crazy road? Well, for those of us living in Santa Monica, it is our one and only option in order to actually get to better and safer riding. I am an extremely cautious rider especially on the PCH as pedestrians and bikers most certainly DO NOT have the right away but sometimes cautious riding isn’t enough…
Orange is far from my favorite color and I swear to you I’ll be having nightmares of orange tonight. I could see the construction up ahead and the hazardously positioned orange cones and the diamond orange evil sign warning that there was some constructing taking place. Well, all this orange paraphernalia was going to force me over into traffic. So, I take a look and see no cars in the right lane—there was a truck about a ¼ mile back but in the left lane so I thought to myself no worries. I point to the right and inch over into the lane only to soon hear a blaring truck horn and I mean BLARING. PANIC! Complete Panic. I heard the truck and he was not braking, not even slowing the tiniest of bits. Quick thinking in my head went something like this take on an 18-wheeler or an orange sign…orange sign hear I come. I bolt my bike to the right braking like a mad woman. The only thought I remember thinking was that there was no way in hell I was going to be staying upright. All I recall was that there was some sliding, a leg slamming into the wicked orange sign, a bike being thrown into the air due to the signs stupid metal holders and then a girl on the ground buried under the orange sign. The good thing is that everything happened so fast that I didn’t put my arms down to brace my fall though my poor little right butt cheek took the brunt of the hit and then my right knee and right shoulder. A few scrapes and bruises but otherwise, I was perfectly fine. I have no idea how I managed to come away with nothing broken or a severe road rash. I definitely am lucky. Oh yes, my bike—perfectly fine as I think hitting my butt first on the ground saved her from severe damage. The sad thing was that no one stopped to help or even see if I was ok. At least 30 cars passed and not one even slowed. What in the hell is this world coming to?! or maybe that’s just Californication.
Moral of the story…don’t mess with the color orange or 18-wheelers.