BICYCLE ACCIDENTS AND AGING
Most of my athletic life has been up on two wheels, both off and on road. Some people I know have died on their bicycles. I’ve had numerous accidents and pedaled away from most. But not all. Here are a few that I won’t forget.
July, early afternoon, late 1980’s — A woman turns left in front of me; she was hurrying to enter the drive through beer warehouse. I run into the side of her car just as my bike brakes are starting to take hold. There’s a loud “crack” noise and I am air born. I hit the car windshield, see the woman’s face, and wonder if this will be my last memory. I flip head over heels and land on my butt in the street; my right wrist hurts.
The police arrive; the woman blames me for the accident. I give the officer my version of the accident. The police ticket her; my bike is broken in two pieces. I go to the doctor and get x-rays; wrist not broken. The woman fights the ticket; my insurance company subrogates using my homeowner’s policy and all my expenses are covered. I buy my first bike helmet, and a new bike.
September, early morning, early 1990’s — I’m stopped on some railroad tracks waiting for a traffic light. I fall from a standing position straight down onto the bike’s top tube. My body rolls right and the inside part of my right thigh, just above the knee, hits the large chainring. The chainring spins as my left pedal pulls free and cuts into my flesh, leaving a long gouge and a big slice of hanging skin and subdermal tissue. There’s not much bleeding so I collect my wits and ride home.
I get home someone looks at my leg and tells me this will need stiches. I shower and use scissors to cut away the hanging flesh strip. The ER doctors put me back together with 14 stitches. They say it looks like something’s missing; I tell them I cut the hanging chunk off because it was full of grease and dirt. They look at each other and then me; they didn’t have poker faces.
I later wondered if the car behind me nudged me while waiting for the light.
September, early morning, 2003 — A car turns in front of me in a traffic circle. The Jeep impacts my front tire with the passenger side fender; I manage to steer away from the Jeep and shout at the driver. Inexplicably, the Jeep then steers back into my path and the front fender hits me and the bike. I am now airborne. The Jeep continues to turn through my travel path; I feel my body hit the vehicle two more times.
I land in the street and come to rest on my back laying across the travel lane. I raise my head and look right to see if any approaching cars are going to run me over. Fortunately, a driver is blocking the lane with his four-way flashers on; I see my bike in front of his car. The lane blocker tells me he’s called the police.
I look left, the Jeep is down the street and the driver is exiting the Jeep that hit me. I feel OK and momentarily consider being nasty to the driver but decide against doing so. The driver asks if I am all right and I tell him I think so, but I want to be still for a few more moments. I get up and notice that my right butt cheek and exterior thigh are completely road rash.
The police arrive along with an ambulance. I refuse transport to a hospital because I just started a new job and don’t have health insurance yet. The EMT’s pour hydrogen peroxide on the road rash and leave.
The police talk with the driver, and he gets a ticket. The police tell me that I shouldn’t ride a bicycle in the traffic circle. I ask how any cyclist is supposed to know that. One of the officers discusses his evaluation of the street markings to justify his opinion. I listen and nod, they drive away.
The Jeep driver gives me a ride home as my bike can’t be ridden. He has a British accent and tells me that American drivers don’t seem to understand traffic circles. I tell him, “Hey, you cut me off and got the ticket for doing so.” He looks at me and changes the subject. The jeep has three passenger side dents, front fender, front door and back door. My body caused most of the damage.
I deal with his insurance company for over a month and they pay to fix my bike after I sign a waiver limiting their liability to only bike repair. Friends recommend that I sue and get the usual settlement, which is about $35K less attorney fees. I refuse to be a social leech.
My lower back starts to hurt about two months after the accident and I work through the pain, which abates.
November 8th 2020, 3 AM-ish — For a number of years, I’ve been riding only at night to avoid drivers in general and specifically those driving while using cell phones. My bike has brilliant LED head and taillights. I am 65 years old.
Night riding is great! I leave at 2 AM and ride for an hour up to two hours. Cars are not an issue; the roads are mostly empty, and my riding route is primarily through neighborhoods. I see a lot of wildlife, many raccoons and often coyotes. Full moon riding is great! I sold my Harley over five years ago; too much traffic and too many distracted drivers.
The weather has been poor the last few days; I’m desperate to ride. There is an approaching late season hurricane. This evening will be one of the best days to ride; conditions will worsen. Some wind with intermittent light rain showers; roads are damp but not wet.
I make a corner near the end of my ride and the rear tire slides out from under me all at once. I’m on a brick paver section of a shopping center driveway; my right thigh and hip hit the pavers and I grunt in pain. I slide along the pavers with my helmet and right side of my face in contact with the pavers; then the bike and I stop.
I am sure that my right femur is broken and carefully extract my right foot from the clip in pedal. Then I drag my body to the curb side of the driveway. I have no cell phone, so I start to call out “Help me, please help me.” I can see the sides of nearby houses just beyond a concrete wall separating the neighborhood from the shopping center.
My voice is extremely loud. I hope someone in a nearby house will call the police. After shouting for quite a while, I lay still to see if someone will show up. No one does, so I grab my bike an pull it to myself. I unclip the headlight and use it to signal passing traffic on the nearby street. That works; a passing driver comes back to see what’s wrong and calls 911 for me.
The police and ambulance arrive. The EMT’s agree that my femur is broken and inject me with pain killers. One EMT calls my wife and puts me on speakerphone; talking with her causes me more grief than the accident; she doesn’t need this worry. She had a shattered femur back in the 1970’s and nearly lost her life due to a fatty embolism; motorcycle accident, not the motorcycle driver’s fault.
I get to the hospital; x rays and face stitches follow. Into surgery, femur broken into ten pieces. Lots of titanium hardware in my right thigh, from hip joint to just above the right knee. I can wiggle and feel my right toes after surgery; a good sign. While lying on the pavement, had I wondered if I would need an artificial leg. The surgeon tells me he usually sees leg damage like mine in accidents involving cars crashing at speeds over 60 mph.
In the hospital from Sunday through Thursday. Up on a walker on Tuesday; can only put 10 pounds of pressure on the ball of my right foot; left leg and arms do the work. It really hurts to use the walker and then sit up in an adult highchair like device to eat lunch. I use only Tylenol for pain which surprises the doctors and physical therapists.
Late Thursday, I am transferred to a rehabilitation center. I’m there until late December, but home in time for Christmas. Covid separates me from my wife for most of this time; we visit in a courtyard at the rehab center a few times and she’s at my doctor’s appointments. One evening, my wife tells me to say hello to my new right leg because the old leg is gone. The “new” leg will be forever different.
At home, I start physical therapy with a therapist that specializes in injuries like mine. My wife found the therapist; my insurance won’t pay for his services, and I don’t want a different therapist for each visit, so I pay. I keep my job, working virtually due to Covid. Physical therapy lasts until October. I’m back in the office, using a cane to walk, at the end of May.
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I promised my wife that I am done with bicycle riding. I owe her an enormous debt for all her travails and extreme angst during my recovery. My right leg is now 1 inch shorter than the left; my right shoe must be equipped with a built-in lift.
I’ve retired and we’ve moved north to a less crowded, smaller city. I have lower back pain due to the leg length discrepancy and perhaps past injuries as well. Not much of an exercise plan at this point but I am still defining my capabilities.
I miss bike riding and hear the temping siren call each time I see a cyclist. Cycling always felt like flying to me, human powered freedom. It enriched my life from age 5 to 65, in many ways.
I wish that I had more carefully considered my last few years of riding. In retrospect, it was time to bow out gracefully and start riding a trainer. Clearly my aging body was, I believe, more prone to injury. So, I hope that someone else might save themselves from a similar experience by reading my tale.
My wonderful mother-in-law lived to be 98 years old and “young”! She said that graceful aging requires continual adaptation. Good advice!
I also want to share some personal thoughts on outdoor activities with those who are younger and still active with cycling. Face it, life is a “crap shoot” from birth forward. Each day is a gift. As the bible says, “What man shall live a single extra day for a lifetime of worry”. We all constantly surf the probability wave; the future is uncertain. Be active, follow your path, stay fit, have adventures. Don’t let fear control your future but do be wisely cautious. Enjoy and reach for your best! Age out wisely!
