Adventures in Motorcar Piloting

This is the end of an era: I can no longer claim that I've never hit a bicyclist with my car.

I had to run up to campus this morning to turn in a couple of papers. I wasn't in a particular hurry or anything, so I don't really know why I wasn't looking straight ahead. As I was rolling out of my driveway, I looked up the street and down the street to make sure I wasn't going to pull out into traffic. It was just as I was crossing the sidewalk that I heard the *thump*.

I snapped my neck to look out the windshield and, to my horror, I was greeted with the sight of a bicycle crashing to the ground and a man rolling into the street in apparent pain. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god was the only thought that went through my mind. Wait, wait, let me add onto that: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, I'm too pretty to go to jail.

Throwing open my door, I jumped out of the car and shouted "Are you OK?!" The relatively young man, probably in late-twenties, forced himself to his feet, brushed himself off, and replied "Yeah, are you OK?" Are you serious, dude? I just attempted-vehicular-manslaughtered you, and you're asking me if I'm OK? If I were this guy, I'd be complaining "My neck hurts; I can't feel my legs; let me see your insurance information; my bike is busted; et cetera, et cetera."

No, actually, I probably would have wussed out and been the "I'm OK" guy, too. But I like to think I'd try to make a lawsuit out of it. Easy money is easy money.

I shook the man's hand, apologized profusely, and we went our separate ways. I suppose I really should be more careful. But if I weren't a complete idiot, bumbling through life, nearly killing people, what would I have to blog about?