Cyclist Down
Yesterday, in Seattle, a bicycle rider was hit by a truck and killed. It happened at an intersection I’ve gone through many times and so the tragedy hits home harder than it would had I no familiarity with the location.
But it’s not about me, of course; nor, is it even about the “cycling community,” whatever that is. The tragedy is intensely personal, for the family and loved ones of the 19 year-old kid who was run over, for his friend and riding buddy who witnessed the accident, and for the truck driver who, apparently was abiding by the rules of the road and just happened to make a turn at the wrong time in the wrong place.
Still, as a cyclist, I can’t help being especially saddened by the death of someone who was killed while doing something that gives me such joy. It makes me feel guilty in a way and embarrassingly fortunate that I should still be able to swing my leg over the toptube and ride on while this young man will never again have that opportunity.
I’ve done some terribly stupid things on two wheels and have gotten away with them. Just yesterday, I sped down alley behind my house and out into the street only to find myself a few feet from an approaching Mercedes. I slammed on my brakes and stopped, sliding sideways, inches from its bumper. Had I come down the street an instant before or if the car was a second or two faster, I might have ended up through its windshield. And I wasn’t wearing a helmet at the time…so why so lucky?
Life is full of risks and you can’t stop doing things just because something bad might happen. I could slip in the shower and break my neck, but that won’t stop me from bathing.
So, I’m going to keep on riding my bike—wishing there were one more rider still on the road.
But it’s not about me, of course; nor, is it even about the “cycling community,” whatever that is. The tragedy is intensely personal, for the family and loved ones of the 19 year-old kid who was run over, for his friend and riding buddy who witnessed the accident, and for the truck driver who, apparently was abiding by the rules of the road and just happened to make a turn at the wrong time in the wrong place.
Still, as a cyclist, I can’t help being especially saddened by the death of someone who was killed while doing something that gives me such joy. It makes me feel guilty in a way and embarrassingly fortunate that I should still be able to swing my leg over the toptube and ride on while this young man will never again have that opportunity.
I’ve done some terribly stupid things on two wheels and have gotten away with them. Just yesterday, I sped down alley behind my house and out into the street only to find myself a few feet from an approaching Mercedes. I slammed on my brakes and stopped, sliding sideways, inches from its bumper. Had I come down the street an instant before or if the car was a second or two faster, I might have ended up through its windshield. And I wasn’t wearing a helmet at the time…so why so lucky?
Life is full of risks and you can’t stop doing things just because something bad might happen. I could slip in the shower and break my neck, but that won’t stop me from bathing.
So, I’m going to keep on riding my bike—wishing there were one more rider still on the road.
posted by Professor Dave at 9:02 PM
2 Comments:
A wonderful tribute. Touches on many interesting points. Why is it we don't feel so akin with the good husband that just dies one sunny afternoon on his sofa from a heart attack? What makes community, identity and shared pain? So interesting.
Anytime someone, especially so young, dies like that it is a great tragedy. But, honestly Dave, you and that rider were both just plain reckless and stupid for not wearing helmets. You were very lucky; he was not.
Don't roll the dice like that, my friend, please! I don't want to be reading your obit on some cycling blog. It's one thing to feel sad about an unknown fellow cyclist's demise. It would be quite another were it a good friend's.
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