knock on that

I had a misadventure on Friday evening: on my way out of the parking lot leaving work, I hit a bicyclist. She was biking on the sidewalk, coming up on my right. It was pitch dark outside, and I didn't see her at all. I just heard a horrifying ka-thump as I pulled out into the street. I jumped out of my car, and there on the sidewalk behind me was a tumbled over bicycle and a woman screaming bloody murder. Turns out neither she nor her bicycle appeared to have suffered any serious injury, since in the end (after I called 911, and the police came, and paramedics came and left) she got back on her bike and rode away. Thank God.

I have weirdly mixed feelings about the whole thing. I'm pretty horrified that this happened, and very, very sorry. And I'm enormously relieved that the woman was alright -- probably bruised and shaken, but basically unharmed. But underneath that, I can't help but be irritated about the whole thing too.

For one thing, people who ride on the sidewalk have always driven me crazy, because it gives other cyclists a bad name and because it's unsafe. So there's that point proven. Some idiot might just come along and hit you.

Also, I'm saying "I hit a cyclist," but I'm not entirely sure it wasn't vice versa. When I went out to look at my car the next morning, in the light of day, there wasn't any sort of scuff or smudge or smear in the dirt on the front of my car (which I haven't washed since maybe September). I think it's entirely possible that she's the one who hit me. That would also explain why she and her bike were so undamaged.

Mainly, though, I'm just very glad that she was okay. Mad as hell, but okay. Given how much worse it could have been, I was happy to get yelled at.