This isn’t a real estate post, but a personal one. I noticed that yet another motorcyclist has been killed locally. It seems there have been several this summer. While I’ve never ridden on one, I’m sure they’re a lot of fun, at least they look that way. I’m also sure it’s more exhilarating to ride without all the helmet gear, but oh so much more dangerous.
Now, please don’t crucify me with nasty comments, but I don’t like to drive behind cycles nor do I like to have them right behind me. They make me very nervous. Here’s why.
In the mid-90’s when I lived in Tucson, I was stopped while waiting for a car in front to make a left turn into a Circle K store. I happened to notice a cyclist approaching rather quickly from behind. Since there was very little traffic, it was – or should have been – easy for him to see us sitting there. As he got closer without seeming to slow his speed, I assumed he would buzz around us at the last moment, since the road was extra wide to allow him to do that.
Apparently, he hadn’t noticed our cars sitting there. Perhaps he was enjoying the view of the mountains, which can be a problem out there – you tend to get lulled into the beauty. Anyway, he saw us too late … he swerved too late … and he slammed into the back of my Jeep.
Words can’t describe what the sound of a body hitting your car is like or the moaning this 24-yr old made afterward. I can still hear it and it’s haunting.
This photo shows only part of the damage. His body hit the back rear corner, but the force bent the entire frame leaving it twisted upward. Both rear doors were shoved forward such that they were jammed and wouldn’t open. Even the two front doors were affected. Imagine the body of a 180-200 lb young man doing this much damage to steel and metal.
The insurance agent wouldn’t allow me to check on him later, but reportedly his face, ribs, hip, and leg were all broken. I don’t know what other internal injuries he had. The only thing that saved his life was a full helmet and leather jacket and pants.
So all you cyclists out there … please, be careful. People like me are worried about people like you. Afterall, they’re called crotch rockets for a reason.