Death Cab For Cutie Me: A Near Death Experience On The Road

I call myself “the bicycle man.” That’s just a nickname I made up for myself since I ride my bicycle five days a week. That’s on Mondays to Wednesdays and Saturdays and Sundays. Why? Well, let’s just say I’m into the green idea - saving Mama Gaia one pedal at a time.

This doesn’t mean though I don’t go for cars. I own a ‘98 Bentley Turbo RT – a fruit of blood and sweat. And I do take care of my baby (the car) by giving it the finest waterless car wash and wax made from top-class waterless car wash products.

My bicycle adventures everyday take me somewhere from the home, church, workplace, and the mountains. The simple dirt jump bike I got gets keeps me healthy and humble. I always take pride on this mountain bike on flat road and I feel safer within the bike zone of the road. When I’m not in the bike lane, well, that’s when I feel unsafe and that just materialized last week.

I was on the road going to a place offering dri wash and guard and fast wax services. Riding my bike on the bike lane, everything was the same. I accumulated all the smoke of nearby fossil-burning cars and enjoyed the company of some women on bikes as well.

I turned right to a corner where a road doesn’t have a bike lane. That’s when the scare bit me. If I would’ve crossed the main road and went straight ahead instead of turning right, it would take me half an hour. That would take too much of my time just to schedule an FW1 auto service.

When I was nearly at the end of the road, I noticed a cab behind me so I drove at the end of the road. The taxi stopped because of the red light and so did I. I was on his right wing near the passenger’s seat door. I don’t think he noticed me. We were waiting for the red light to go green so we can go straight ahead.

I could see the shop and I could hear the taxi’s engine getting ready to race with the wind. When it the traffic lights finally turned green, I drove straight ahead but the taxi turned right. The cab hit me with an amazing force. I felt my body got thrown away while my soul stayed with the bike.

So there you go. I should’ve stayed behind Mr. Taxi driver. Guess, that’s the price I had to pay for being ironically scared and confident.

The cab driver’s company paid for my bike and for my hospital bills. I got the service for my car by the way.