Brian Vs. The Back of a Taxi

(Above: My Bike, Spring 2010 - February 28th, 2011)

I have been riding a bike in the city for the past year or so. It has become my major means of transportation. I have saved hundreds of dollars in cab and TTC fees and hours of time by booking it through the streets of Toronto. Riding a bike has given me a hobby. It has given me something to be passionate about. I have put in a lot of time and money to creating a bike that felt good and I spent a lot of time using to to become an avid and coordinated cyclist. I love biking and I love my bike. Or should I say, I loved my bike. I love it in the sense that we have been through so much together and been on so many adventures! I loved it in the sense that I can no longer ride this particular bike anymore.

Let’s start off today’s tale by talking about yesterday. I had a day off and planned on taking apart my bike and putting it back together. Riding in the winter causes a lot of build of salt, dirt, and crud from the winter roads. I took everything off the frame and polished everything. I put my bike back together and went for a ride on my rollers to make sure everything was in prime condition. It was. My bike is a finely tuned machine and it was running at top speed. Little did I know that it would be the last time I would begin and end a ride with the bike in one, ride-able piece.

The next day (February 28^th, 2011), I had a few things to do around the downtown core. The roads looked clean and the sun was shining! Perfect day for a ride. I suited up and hit the streets. I took my usual path. East on Bloor to Bay St., then south on Bay to get into the heart of Toronto’s core. I like(d) riding down Bay St. because the right lane is for taxis, bikes, and buses between Monday-Friday 7am-7pm. It was 2PM. There is plenty of room for everyone to co-exist in these lanes. I was givin’er down Bay just south of College at about 25KM/H when the taxi in front of me stopped suddenly...very suddenly. That’s when I stopped. I should get into a little detail to tell you how I stopped:

I grabbed my front brake and pulled as hard as I could to try and avoid this taxi/roadblock that stopped in my path. I didn’t have time or the space to go on either side of the Taxi. My rear wheel started to elevate as my front wheel skid on the ground. I leaned forward to try and stop by back wheel from spinning but it was too late. I smashed into the back of the taxi with enough force to bend my steel forks back. My bike stopped but my body kept going. I landed on the trunk of the taxi and smashed my face into the rear window of the cab. I slid off the side of the cab and hit the street. That’s how I stopped.

Luckily, a few kind pedestrians lent a hand to and helped me off the road. As they ran towards me while I was on the street I noticed I was missing a front tooth. Things rushed into my head. If I hit the taxi hard enough to crack my tooth, how was the rest of me. The first thing I asked these people was: “Am I bleeding and how’s my nose?” He said I wasn’t bleeding. Just then, a few drops of blood fell from my eye brow. “Wait, yea you’re bleeding.” I felt my nose and it felt fine. The taxi driver came over too. We spoke briefly and he asked if I was ok. I was just glad we were both ok enough to be standing on the edge of the road. He told me someone stopped quickly in front of him. I believed it too. Those things tend to happen on Bay St. I went to look at my reflection in a window on the side of the street. It just happened to be the window of a dentist (just my luck). I joked around with the people that stopped and pretended to go inside. I think they thought I was concussed and just laughed with (at) me. I looked fine considering what just happened. A young lady came to give me a few tissues to cover the gash above my eye. I took the Kleenex then asked her for one more thing: a hug. She was gracious enough to give me a gentle hold. It was exactly what I needed at that time. In the distance I heard sirens become louder and louder. I continued to smile and joke around with the people that stopped to make sure I was ok by pretending to cry over my bike which I was hugging at that point. I then offered money to whoever could find my tooth (which is still missing…the dentist thinks I swallowed it). The pedestrians told me to just sit tight as an ambulance was on its way. They seemed worried and said it looked like a horrifying accident. I felt fine.

So I knew my tooth was busted and I needed to get it fixed. The longer I spent with that chipped tooth, the stranger it felt. I called up Blair, my roommate. He was in the midst of driving his girlfriend, Kristina, to work. She works at a dentist! Scores! They agreed to swing by and pick me up and take me to the dentist as long as I wasn’t seriously hurt. The ambulance rushed up to me and stopped. The paramedics came out and then invited me into the back of the ambulance. I asked if I could bring my bike. There wasn’t any room, but the Hug-Lady offered to watch it for me. I hopped into the ambulance and was greeted by two young lady paramedics. Nice! They gave me a once over and asked if I wanted a ride to the hospital to get a few stitches above my eye. I said I was fine and would get my own way to the hospital. They monitored me for a bit and took down my information. Blair and Kristina arrived at this point. The back of the ambulance opened and they said hi. I smiled my wonky smile at them. I signed off some paperwork and the paramedics gave me an ice pack and bandaged my eye. At this point, a police officer came in. I smiled at her and she laughed at me…oh right, I looked like Ace Ventura at this point. She took down a brief statement from me and even said I should win the award for “happiest guy that’s ever been in an accident.” That made me smile my wonky smile again. One of the most heart warming things happened after that. There was a knock on the back of the ambulance and the door opened and Hug-Lady, guy that called the ambulance and another young lady (all the people that stopped) wanted to say good bye to me as they had given their statements and were free to go. I waved at them and told them I was fine. I wish I had a chance to thank them again.

I hopped out of the ambulance and thanked the paramedics and asked the one paramedic if her number was still 911. She laughed. I think. I was then led into a police car to give my statement to a cop. He was a pretty funny guy too and joked around with me a lot. For example, when he said I was free to go, I tried to open the back door. He reminded me that I was in the back of a police car. The only way I could get out from the inside was to shoot my way out. He asked if I had a firearm. I said no, so he came out and let me out of the confines of that tiny sliver of a backseat. He went over to my bike with me to take a look at the damage. He said it is a nice bike. I corrected him and told him it WAS a nice bike. I got my first good look at the damage. The forks were totaled and bent back far enough that the front wheel was scrapping my frame. Everything else was fine including my front wheel which I still don’t understand how it didn’t bend. I locked up my bike on the side of the road and hopped in Blair’s jeep to head to the dentist. After a few x-rays at the dentist, I was told there wasn’t any root damage which means no root canal. My day was just getting better and better! He capped up my tooth rather quickly and even stitched up my eye for me! This was the coolest dentist ever.

With a new tooth, and two new stitches, I hit the road again to go back to Bay St. to rescue my bike to bring it home. The poor thing is sitting next to me as I type this. I can hear it whimper. Poor bike.

As horrible as the situation was, I feel happy knowing this whole thing could have been much worse. As exhilarating as it is to fly down Bay St., I am thinking I should slow down. Whether or not that will actually happen...who knows.

Here’s to another ride and a new bike and a new tooth.