It’s an old wives’ tale that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. In fact, lightning loves to strike twice in the same place. The huge jolt of energy that a lightning bolt inflicts during a strike creates an electron path that actually attracts more lightning. So there’s a bitter irony behind that maxim, and it has come around to bite me on the ass again.
Today I’m lucky to be alive. I narrowly dodged what was a completely random occurrence, something that could have happened any time in the last 25 years of cycling, but didn’t. Something so bizarre and unexpected, that it could never have been predicted. I came within a millimeter of losing my life today, and happily a millimeter was enough.
I rode this morning with one of my clients, Scott White. We did a fast and hilly 90 minute ride through Watchung and Warren, then did a Brick workout and ran 2 miles at a screaming 6:12 pace. Great workout, amazingly good considering the toughness of the last few days, and my horrible lack of sleep. After the run, Scott and I got back on the bikes and started spinning back toward Scott’s home in Westfield via Plainfield. Heading south on Woodland Avenue, I was in front moving around 24 mph, and Scott was just a few feet behind me. I noticed up a ahead that an oncoming car seemed to be getting ready to make a turn in front of us. But I quickly realized that the car wasn’t slowing, that no one was steering, and that it was aimed directly at me, and was moving extremely fast, well over 50 mph. I had nowhere to go, so I sprinted hard toward the edge of the road, and the car grazed my thigh and calf, clipping my heel and knocking my cleat out of the pedal. The car struck my bike directly on the left side of the rear quick release, destroying the hub and sending a spiral of cracks through the seatstay. The car kept rolling, and as I skidded to a stop in someone’s front yard, I heard a huge crash behind me. My first thought was that Scott was dead, but fortunately he was able to brake in time and avoid the trouble. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the car slamming back to the ground after crushing a utility pole. Scott and I rushed over to the car, and a young woman opened the door and staggered out, completely dazed. Her airbags saved her life. We sat her down on the grass and helped her regroup while the police began to arrive. Apparently she had fallen asleep at the wheel and had no recollection of what happened just before the accident.
A single millimeter to the left, and the scene would have been completely different. I have had close calls before, and I’m always amazed by the way my reflexes take command and keep me safe. This time, in the span of 1 second, I launched a few superhard pedal strokes, threw my body as far to the right as I could, hopped my front wheel over the lip of the road, leaned hard to miss a fire hydrant, and somehow adjusted my balance to stay upright as the car hit me. Scott, who saw it all happen, said that if he had been my position he would be dead because his bike handling skills aren’t anywhere near that level. That’s a scary thought - what if I hadn’t been alert and seen the car coming?
I guess my streak is still alive. No kissing the pavement for me. Knock on wood.
But that’s 2 bikes destroyed in 2 months. That girl’s insurance company won’t be happy about this one. The cops that came to the scene were really cool, and made a point of getting as much info about the bike as they could, just to speed up the process of getting a claim going. Looks like I’m going to be back on the old Tarmac E5 for a little while, which is just fine.
Bottom line: I’m grateful to be alive and unhurt. The rest is insignificant.
