(no subject)
Well, that hurt.
Riding home after work today - second day back in melbourne - and I managed to get into my first bingle of the year. And it was a doosy.
I ride home up Brunswick St; I join it at St Vincent's hospital, and follow it all the way up to where it connects with St George's Road. Not a bad trek; all told it's about five km from the office to my front door. Mostly via main roads, and once I'm out of the CBD proper, it's all downhill.
For christmas, my brother gave me a trip computer for the chariot - y'know, speedo, odometer etc. Nice little gadget. I hooked it up last night, and got to test it out today. Turns out I can do a pretty decent clip - I seem to average between 25 and 35kph for most of the way home when I'm putting some effort in. This becomes relevant shortly.
So I'm riding up Brunswick St, getting a fairly respectable speed up, and managing to miss most of the lights - a substantial bonus right there. Get up to the Elizabeth Parade intersection - the biggest and busiest on my route - and manage to catch the green straight through. So I gun it, because the lights there are a 2+ minute wait if you miss.
I shoot straight through. A car coming the opposite direction is turning across me; it's far enough ahead that I'll sail right past behind it. I don't notice the second car turning. By the time I see it, I'm halfway across the intersection, and he's utterly oblivious to me. If I'd continued straight, I would have been collected by his front grill in a perfect t-bone. I'm doing close on 40kph - speedo says I hit 38.5 today - so braking would have either vaulted me over the car, or skidded me in straight under the wheels. So I swerve left out of instinct; if I can turn fast enough, I'll be parralleling the car, and can swerve over to the traffic island once he's in front. Right may have been a better option; but hey, I'm left handed. It was pure instinct. Unfortunately, my turning circle isn't quite tight enough - I end up ramming his front quarter panel and taking off his wing mirror before getting dumped on my ass. If I'd had a half a meter more to play with, I'd have missed entirely.
So I get spun up and off. Knocks me straight back onto my ass - the exact physics of it all are a little vague, for obvious reasons, but I hit solidly with the back of my hips; I've got what feels like massive internal bruising running along the small of my back and first few inches of my ass. I also take some minor skin off my right hand and elbow - nothing even worth a bandaid. By the time I regain my senses - my first attempt to get upright fails coz my legs are too weak - I've got a copper helping me up. Turns out there'd been a smash just around the corner, so he'd seen me go down and come running. The vic coppers are damn quick, I'll give em that :)
He grabs my bike and gets it off the road, ambulances are called, I'm told to lie down and not move in case of spinal trauma; I sit there, vaguely bemused by proceedings, as I tally my bruises and scrapes. The cops called an ambo for me, and he checked me over before pronouncing me fucking lucky. To give you an idea of the force involved, the tail-light I have clipped to my backpack broke open on impact, and the batteries ended up coming through the guy's sunroof. Freaky, huh? I'm offered a ride home, and told that I should have my local doc check me out properly; I'm also offered an ambo ride, but I don't feel any more than just bruised, so I pass. The cops take my details, and the other bloke's, so if anything does develop I'll be able to claim against his road insurance etc; but I don't think I'll have to bother. My bike is fine; looks like the front wheel has got a slight buckle, and the rear hanger is bent out of shape, but it's still ridable. I'll book it in for a service this week just to be sure. Then I ride home. Slowly. On the footpath.
Call me suicidal, but as long as the bruising and stiffness in my lower back and butt allow me to walk, I'll be riding to work tomorrow, and to a doctor afterward, like nothing ever happened. Just another tale to add to my collection of scars. Assuming I scar up, which seems unlikely, given I haven't broken any skin... I never seem to get any cool scars. Kinda sucks. Maybe I'll stop at St Vincent's emergency room on the way to work tomorrow, just to be sure.
Here's hoping it's not an omen for my year...
Riding home after work today - second day back in melbourne - and I managed to get into my first bingle of the year. And it was a doosy.
I ride home up Brunswick St; I join it at St Vincent's hospital, and follow it all the way up to where it connects with St George's Road. Not a bad trek; all told it's about five km from the office to my front door. Mostly via main roads, and once I'm out of the CBD proper, it's all downhill.
For christmas, my brother gave me a trip computer for the chariot - y'know, speedo, odometer etc. Nice little gadget. I hooked it up last night, and got to test it out today. Turns out I can do a pretty decent clip - I seem to average between 25 and 35kph for most of the way home when I'm putting some effort in. This becomes relevant shortly.
So I'm riding up Brunswick St, getting a fairly respectable speed up, and managing to miss most of the lights - a substantial bonus right there. Get up to the Elizabeth Parade intersection - the biggest and busiest on my route - and manage to catch the green straight through. So I gun it, because the lights there are a 2+ minute wait if you miss.
I shoot straight through. A car coming the opposite direction is turning across me; it's far enough ahead that I'll sail right past behind it. I don't notice the second car turning. By the time I see it, I'm halfway across the intersection, and he's utterly oblivious to me. If I'd continued straight, I would have been collected by his front grill in a perfect t-bone. I'm doing close on 40kph - speedo says I hit 38.5 today - so braking would have either vaulted me over the car, or skidded me in straight under the wheels. So I swerve left out of instinct; if I can turn fast enough, I'll be parralleling the car, and can swerve over to the traffic island once he's in front. Right may have been a better option; but hey, I'm left handed. It was pure instinct. Unfortunately, my turning circle isn't quite tight enough - I end up ramming his front quarter panel and taking off his wing mirror before getting dumped on my ass. If I'd had a half a meter more to play with, I'd have missed entirely.
So I get spun up and off. Knocks me straight back onto my ass - the exact physics of it all are a little vague, for obvious reasons, but I hit solidly with the back of my hips; I've got what feels like massive internal bruising running along the small of my back and first few inches of my ass. I also take some minor skin off my right hand and elbow - nothing even worth a bandaid. By the time I regain my senses - my first attempt to get upright fails coz my legs are too weak - I've got a copper helping me up. Turns out there'd been a smash just around the corner, so he'd seen me go down and come running. The vic coppers are damn quick, I'll give em that :)
He grabs my bike and gets it off the road, ambulances are called, I'm told to lie down and not move in case of spinal trauma; I sit there, vaguely bemused by proceedings, as I tally my bruises and scrapes. The cops called an ambo for me, and he checked me over before pronouncing me fucking lucky. To give you an idea of the force involved, the tail-light I have clipped to my backpack broke open on impact, and the batteries ended up coming through the guy's sunroof. Freaky, huh? I'm offered a ride home, and told that I should have my local doc check me out properly; I'm also offered an ambo ride, but I don't feel any more than just bruised, so I pass. The cops take my details, and the other bloke's, so if anything does develop I'll be able to claim against his road insurance etc; but I don't think I'll have to bother. My bike is fine; looks like the front wheel has got a slight buckle, and the rear hanger is bent out of shape, but it's still ridable. I'll book it in for a service this week just to be sure. Then I ride home. Slowly. On the footpath.
Call me suicidal, but as long as the bruising and stiffness in my lower back and butt allow me to walk, I'll be riding to work tomorrow, and to a doctor afterward, like nothing ever happened. Just another tale to add to my collection of scars. Assuming I scar up, which seems unlikely, given I haven't broken any skin... I never seem to get any cool scars. Kinda sucks. Maybe I'll stop at St Vincent's emergency room on the way to work tomorrow, just to be sure.
Here's hoping it's not an omen for my year...