If I told you that I've been cycling all my life and that I've never had a serious accident, would you believe me? Well, you should, because it's the truth. I've been stopped by the police, I've fallen off my bike hurting myself so badly that I couldn't walk for days (I still don't know how this happened), and I've had some near-accidents.
My friend Bobby has been in my ears like a plaque, telling me I need a helmet, which, of course, I refuse to wear. Reflective belts and LEDs is all I will commit to.
So yesterday was fantastic weather and because I have accumulated a little bit to much winter-insulation, I thought it was a brilliant idea to kill two birds with one stone; I rammed the saddle between my butt-cheeks and off I went, music in my ears, smile on my face.
Not too far away from where I live is a canal which offers a wonderful cycling-route. If you have good control over your bike, that is. The path is uneven in large parts, but gets better after a while, especially if you enter the national park, where you can cycle until you are exhausted.
However, after only ten minutes of happy paddling away with reasonable speed, enjoying the view, a guy just drove in my way; there was nothing I could do to prevent what had to follow. Though hitting the brakes, I crashed into him, my bike skidded under me and I landed on my knee. He came out of a park without even considering that there might be someone cycling past. Poor guy was in a bigger shock than I. He asked me a several times if I was all right, which I confirmed. A few witnesses craned their heads to hear out exchange, but as there was no major blood-loss, they left us alone. I re-adjusted my handlebar, lock and earphones, then sat on my bike and went ahead with my journey, ignoring the pain in my wrist, my arm, my knee and calve. I'm not a sissy, am I?
Back at home, I took a look at my 'injuries'.
The guy, by the way, got away unscathered, the lucky swine.