So I got in a bike crash about a week ago. Long story short, I was racing a car (I was on the sidewalk) when a Post Office delivery guy (they ride motorcycles) pulled out of a sidestreet without looking in my direction. I swerved to avoid t-boning him, smashing the curb and hurtling my body over the handlebars. I guess I closed my eyes because I can't remember landing. When I opened my eyes my first thought was "Don't run me over!" Luckily the guy stopped 8 inches from running over my torso. Something about being nearly seven feet, white and flipping through the air finally made him look to his left. I guess it didn't make him feel responsible though, because he asked if I was ok and then got the hell out of dodge. At least the Post Office offered to pay for a new bike.
Fortunately for me I was mostly unhurt, just cuts and bruises. It was extremely fortunate actually, I don't know how I managed that feat. So that makes one bike stolen and one bike destroyed in four months so far. That doesn't count the time I got hit by an old lady. Luckily she didn't irreparably damage my bike.
Oh, I forgot to mention. I had borrowed Ray's bike, so I actually wrecked his bike. More good luck....for me. Ha.
The coolest thing about this whole charade has to be the fact that I hit the curb with such force that I bent the front fork of the bike. The seat was messed up too, but I bent steel!
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