Most accidents happen within 2 miles of home, I've heard somewhere.
Thursday I'm coming up to the an interesection, a few turns from home. A woman is trotting along the
side of the road picking up something black and rectangular. There's no sidewalk, so I drift a bit
to the center of the lane to give her space, I'm probably doing 10-15 mph. She looks down the
street, away from me and steps into my path without ever checking for oncoming traffic.
I swear loudly. An image is frozen in my mind, her mid stride toward my front wheel. All goes black,
I see stars and feel impact. Momentarily I recover and find I'm still on the bike and upright, still
clipped in. She's on the pavement in a fetal position, halfway into the lane we collided in.
By her account she's ok, very shaken up and with a split lip. Her male companion is yelling all over
the place and obstructing traffic. Two brilliant people, truly. I insist upon getting a police car
there right away, but they want nothing to do with accident reports or police and drive away. A
witness jots down her observation, name and phone number and goes about her way. A passing motorist
offered to call 911. After 20 minutes and no police I pedal home, still shaken.
I've got a stiff neck and slight headache this morning. I checked my helmet for cracks, there are
none. I'm heading off to the local police department to report the accident this morning (has to be
reported within 24 hours, state law.)
It's good I wasn't driving my pickup at the time. It's about all I can think of.
It's also good I wasn't going faster. The image of Laurent Jalabert on the ground at the 1994 Tour
de France, covered in blood after colliding with a gendarme (the gendarme was a course marshall and
took that opportunity to step in front of the sprinter with a camera. The gendarme, IIRC ended up
with a triple leg fracture.)
Look both ways before crossing the street.