My dad always yells at me for not wearing a helmet when I ride my bike and, additionally, not having any lights or reflectors really on my bike. I know that it's clearly a bad decision and nothing but bad could come from it, but it's kind of annoying =\ I really have gotten lucky for my entire life having not been killed or severely screwed up because of this, though. I should really probably put some lights on, at least. But also, I'm planning to not use my bike very much once my motorbike is fixed.
Anyway, I really haven't had any incident on my bike pretty much ever, so I was pretty surprised at how the first one came about. I was biking back home from my parents' parking garage after the hockey game on Sunday night, and I was through the Convention Center I think on 7th street and was heading towards 9th Street -- that is, I'd be biking past the 7/11 and then turning right to go up 9th. Since that road goes the wrong way for me at that point, though, I got up on the curb.
I wasn't going very fast at that point. I would guess maybe something like 10 - 12 miles per hour. I was hardly looking at the ground because there was no one in front of me, and as I was arcing the path of my bike back to the part of the sidewalk that I wanted to be on, I just felt everything stop responding to what I wanted it to do. I was still trying to pedal, but wasn't going faster. I was trying to stay straight up, but was not. I pulled on the brakes, which only made it worse, and my bike tipped right over onto its left side, completing dumping me in the process.
Once I landed, I knew why it had happened. That portion of the sidewalk had been salted to a ridiculous degree. I mean, so salted that I actually couldn't see the sidewalk for most of that area through which I had fallen... with the exception of where my tires had swiped the salt side to side and away. So basically the sidewalk was just covered with little orbs of friction-reducing death.
Fortunately, I really wasn't hurt. The chain didn't even come off my bike, which is surprising, because my bike is very much a piece of crap. My jeans didn't rip despite the fact that they are also pieces of crap, though they did have stains of white salt on them. I definitely made a pretty loud screeching and thudding sound in the process, and when I turned around to see what was around me, I saw a young black woman on the other corner. She looked at me, never stopped walking, and then looked away without a second thought.
I do feel pretty fortunate that I as wearing mittens. If I hadn't, I'm pretty sure my hands would've been torn to shreds.
Anyway, so that's the story of the first time I got hurt on a bike. And I have absolutely no one to blame, really, but myself.
Peace out.
Anyway, I really haven't had any incident on my bike pretty much ever, so I was pretty surprised at how the first one came about. I was biking back home from my parents' parking garage after the hockey game on Sunday night, and I was through the Convention Center I think on 7th street and was heading towards 9th Street -- that is, I'd be biking past the 7/11 and then turning right to go up 9th. Since that road goes the wrong way for me at that point, though, I got up on the curb.
I wasn't going very fast at that point. I would guess maybe something like 10 - 12 miles per hour. I was hardly looking at the ground because there was no one in front of me, and as I was arcing the path of my bike back to the part of the sidewalk that I wanted to be on, I just felt everything stop responding to what I wanted it to do. I was still trying to pedal, but wasn't going faster. I was trying to stay straight up, but was not. I pulled on the brakes, which only made it worse, and my bike tipped right over onto its left side, completing dumping me in the process.
Once I landed, I knew why it had happened. That portion of the sidewalk had been salted to a ridiculous degree. I mean, so salted that I actually couldn't see the sidewalk for most of that area through which I had fallen... with the exception of where my tires had swiped the salt side to side and away. So basically the sidewalk was just covered with little orbs of friction-reducing death.
Fortunately, I really wasn't hurt. The chain didn't even come off my bike, which is surprising, because my bike is very much a piece of crap. My jeans didn't rip despite the fact that they are also pieces of crap, though they did have stains of white salt on them. I definitely made a pretty loud screeching and thudding sound in the process, and when I turned around to see what was around me, I saw a young black woman on the other corner. She looked at me, never stopped walking, and then looked away without a second thought.
I do feel pretty fortunate that I as wearing mittens. If I hadn't, I'm pretty sure my hands would've been torn to shreds.
Anyway, so that's the story of the first time I got hurt on a bike. And I have absolutely no one to blame, really, but myself.
Peace out.
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