The road less cycled

On March 4 I was hit by the driver of a Lexus while trying to find a way to bicycle to New Westminster.I was on Broadway, heading East around dusk, and woke up a few hours later in a hospital bed. Of the interceding period I have no memory, and my memory of days and events immediately after the accident is patchy at best.

I haven’t driven or bicycled since the accident, and have walked, taken transit, or been carpooled everywhere. Since then I’ve seen a flurry of doctors and a couple lawyers, spending most of the rest of my time at home just “takin’ it easy”, as Buck 65 says about his trip to the fishing hole. I’ve rediscovered some wild places, started some good books, and tried to remember that I actually do still have some academic obligations. I think I’d kinda been in the unconscious process of dropping out of sight and starting afresh in some ways anyway.

What matters is that despite having been in jured while riding my bike, in no way will I be deterred from doing so in traffic again. Perhaps my resolve is even stronger. In a sense I’m lucky to bere; some maniac irresponsibility on the part of the driver of that Lexus, who was going 65km/h in an intersection, while according to the police officer who attended the scene, I was doing everything right. My life however, wouldn’t be the same without my bicycle, so damned if I let this be a big setback in that regard.

Mentally things have been a little patchy. I don’t always reconcile with reality, I guess you could say. For instance, in the preceding text, I’d swear I’d written “incident” instead of “accident” as my subconscious seems to prefer that word. When I go back and read it however, what do I see? The word “accident.” Perhaps most strangely, my family queries me about things I did just after Mar. 4, and the event in question simply doesn’t register on me. I have no memory of some of those things. Days seem to go by like the flash of a shutter; I’ve barely started one before it’s time to go to bed and start the next one again.

Oddly though, I’m not getting any mental feelings of regret or resentment; only a feeling of  “this is how it is, this is what happened, now you find the best solution.” Nothing else, other than a seeming inability to focus on the mundane and the occurrence of an obsession with the bigger picture that’s a little disconcerting.

I mean, it’s a bigger picture which includes the prospect of continuing ecological destruction, a dysfunctional economic system, a patchy job market (or soon to be patchy if it’s not yet), and a living situation that has more questions than answers.

More insanity than mundanity.

The caterpillar

Crawls on cold hard asphalt

Bike tire swerves