Sadly, that’s not just a clever title.Â Friday morning, I really was struck by a car.
Allow me to set the scene…
This past weekend was the Republic of Texas (ROT) Biker Rally.Â I was excited to go, as it was my first rally.Â On Thursday, I spent most of the day at the rally grounds shopping, listening to bands, and watching the Wall of Death show.Â Friday, my plan was to head out on the bike while Shawna took the car so she could return home and look after pets.Â Good plan, I thought.
So Shawna takes off and I follow.Â I’m taking my time, and she has to stop at a bank, so we lose sight of each other quickly as I head east.
And then it happened.Â I was crossing an intersection in the right hand lane whenÂ a woman pulled in from a side street without looking, swinging past the merge lane, and heading right at me.Â I swerved left, but the left hand lane was full.Â The woman was still coming, and there just wasn’t room to get out of her way.Â We collided, my foot getting mashed between her car and my bike, my right foot control cracking, and her front fender tearing loose.
AfterÂ fighting to keep my bike upright, I pulled over and started inspecting damage.Â The frame appeared to be okay, but I had some worries about the transmission, as it seemed to want to stay in neutral.Â The woman got out of her car, asked if I was all right, and gave me her info.Â She agreed she was at fault, but I took her insurance down just in case.
Then I called Shawna to see if she could pick me up.Â No answer.Â Okay, no prob.Â She’s probably driving.Â I left a voicemail saying I was all right and that I was going to limp the bike to the nearest shop.
With my rear brakes out (cracked foot control, y’know!), getting to the Harley dealership was no easy feat.Â The transmission ended up being fine, however.Â At least it felt fine to my relatively untrained self.Â I managed the trip slowly but surely, and once I sent the bike off toÂ Harley’s service department, I called Shawna again.
After leaving a slightly more irritated message, I called my insurance company (also my battering ram’s company), and got things rolling.Â I grabbed a cup of coffee and went to sit outside.Â After an hour had passed since my accident, I called Shawna again.
And, as I left my third voicemail, I lost it.
“Hi, Shawna. I just got fucking hit by a fucking car, and it would be really fucking nice if you would ANSWER YOUR MOTHERFUCKING PHONE!!!”
Five minutes later, Shawna called.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey,” she answered.Â “What are you up to?”
“You didn’t hear me calling?”
“Nope.Â Left my phone in the car.Â Why?”
“Did you listen to my voicemails?”
So that conversation went well.Â After I convinced Shawna I was fine and that I just needed a ride back to the fairgrounds, she came and picked me up.Â I ended up limping through the day, as the steel toe of my boot had badly bruised my foot, which had swollen up to something the size of a small football.Â Shawna helped as much as possible, making me sit down and rest while she ran to get ice, food, or whatever.Â The next morning, my foot felt much better.
At least I still have my health!Â And now I’m one of the few people out there who can say they were hit by a car!