What it feels like to ... Fly over the handlebars of your bicycle ...
(In the spirit of
Esquire Magazine)
I was in sixth grade and I had my first job; paperboy.
Every day the papers would be dropped off at the 7-11 down the hill from my elementary school; some days we would walk and carry the bag, others we would take our bikes and either ride with the bag on or hang the bag from our handlebars.
The ride down the hill to the 7-11 is a pretty good one. In retrospect, it was never one we should have been riding down. It was a fairly busy road and the light at the bottom had people zipping around and through the intersection all the time. There were apartment complexes along the way that had driveways attached to the street and the 7-11 itself had a lot of traffic. It was a dumb idea to head down it full tilt on either side of the street. But, in 1978 we were always told to ride facing traffic. The consensus back then was to see what was coming at you and that they could see you better.
One day, I was probably a few minutes behind and worried. I flew down that hill on my ten speed facing traffic, right along where the apartment complexes came out. About halfway down a Z28 approached the end of the driveway. I remember seeing him and starting to slow down, but it seemed like he was stopping so I kicked it harder instead.
He pulled out of the driveway and hit my back tire. He claims I simply lost control of the vehicle and that he missed me. There was someone who he claimed witnessed it from up the road. I think he hit me. It wasn't a big hit, but a tap nonetheless.
I wobbled.
I panicked.
I tried to slow and hit the brakes.
Apparently, I hit the front brake too hard and the front tire stopped.
There is a distinct feeling and sensation one gets when gravity wins. It must be what it feels like to fly. However, it was involuntary and not what I was trying to do. I was trying to hold myself back. I was trying to stay on the bike. I did not want to hit the pavement.
I was in jeans. I was wearing my paper bag.
The paper bag was canvas. It was a big and heavy thing that would hold a few dozen papers in both the front and back and rested on my shoulders. You don't see those anymore. They made lighter nylon ones that my fellow paperboys preferred. I was very lucky to have the canvas one.
As I went over I can vividly remember thinking I needed to keep my head up to not let it hit the pavement. My arms started to come up to protect my face. My feet did not get too tangled as I went totally over the front of the bike. The bike clanked to one side and was still usable later. I recall landing on all fours; knees and elbows and feeling a sharp pain in a knee and a burning sensation on an arm. My chin came down but not too hard. I slid a bit. My arms pulled into the canvas. Apparently, my right arm had ended up in the canvas bag while in mid-air and my left pulled in shortly after. I did not rollover. My gut reaction was to dive to my left to the grassy area to get the burning sensation in my arm to cool. There was a nasty scrape on my arm. My knee was bleeding and the pants had torn through.
The Z28 driver was freaked.
I grabbed my bike and ran down the hill the rest of the way to the 7-11. I was bloodied and battered and in tears. The old guy working knew me and looked concerned and let me use the phone. My two buddies gave me a glance but continued to play pinball without suggesting any real concern for me. Those relationships changed that day.
A full speed collision and a flight over the handlebars onto pavement going downhill and I walked away.
My mom got there quickly and took me to the ER where I mostly remember that the iodine burned when they cleaned my arm. No broken bones. No stitches. No concussion.
The bike really took it well.
After that, I mostly walked.
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