Bouncing Back

 The observation my wife made, upon hearing my account, was that I was tasked with comforting the woman that hit me. 

With her car. 

I was on a bike. 

The thing was, I was turning left and I probably could have slowed down and let the car pass, then made the turn I've been making for twenty-six years onto the street that would take me down the hill to my home. Safe and sound. I wasn't being as safe as I probably should have been. 

Nor was she. By her own flustered account on the sidewalk after we had merged paths, she was rushing to get to work. I was rushing to get home from work. I got up off the ground to get my bike out of the way, and was thankful that she didn't just rush on. Instead, she got back into her car and carefully pulled it over to the curb. When she got out, she was beginning to tear up and was calling for god and anyone or anything else that would listen. I was up and moving, feeling a little worse for wear on my left knee and my shoulder, but not in any obvious distress. Which upon reflection could have been the adrenalin that was surging after this near miss. 

But it wasn't really a miss. It was a near collision. The full impact of which was assessed by me while this frightened woman sorted herself out. There might have been a scratch on her side view mirror, but it was a glancing blow and since my bike had escaped along with its rider being crushed underneath the wheels of a Toyota sedan, I counted this as a win. 

So I went over and assured this distraught lady that I was fine, and I wanted to be sure she was going to be okay too. I introduced myself. I told her that I was fine and that if I were on the playground I probably wouldn't even need a band-aid for the scrape on my knee. 

As she began to settle down to the much less immediate moment, we began to appreciate how lucky we both were. I apologized for my part, and she noticed my Golden State Warriors beanie. "They've been doing so much better lately." 

Yes. They had. Still on the verge of crying, I reached out and gave her a hug. I told her that we were fine and that everything would be alright. Eventually, she calmed to the point where she could climb back into her car and be on her way to work. "At least you'll have a story to tell if anyone asks why you were late," I said as she waved one last time. 

Then she was gone. I walked my bike across the street, and finding no damage to the main systems, rolled on down the hill to my home.