#6-Next- ...The summer ’84 bike trip- What ‘s that noise ? Whoa!!!!!!!!!!!...
My job at the Lung Assoc was a lifesaver for me in many ways ,coming off the double whammy of begin laid off from my profession as a teacher and realizing that my musical aspirations had been pretty well choked off. It was more fundraising than education for my taste, but one of the more interesting funding efforts was coordinating 2 young guys who volunteered to get sponsors for a cross-country bike trip if the LA would pay for the bikes and packs and handle the publicity and donations. Unfortunately, one guy bolted several days before they were to take off together –but overall it worked pretty well and I got a renewed interest in biking myself, nothing heroic ,just the desire to get out and do so miles for exercise and stress management-which I needed a lot of because after leaving the Lung Assoc I returned to teaching at Silver Lake going full tilt with creative classroom attempts with some very difficult combinations of adolescents and health related programs for the high school and school system. (By the way I remember that on the last day of that difficult year, I had attended the teachers end of year
yahoo! and came in the back door of our Sea St home, breathing a giant sigh of relief and I walked into the livingroom to greet Cyndy and she was sitting there connected to an IV pole! What the hell? Is this for kicks or had I missed something odd over this busy school year? …seems at the health center she had a head ache and in her haste taken a side by side Diabenase rather than a Motrin off the shelf and to treat her hypoglycemia when juice and food did work and rather than face the ambarassment of the ER she convinced Fred Dolgin to start an IV at home….) Anyhow since noone else was available I figured I would take a solo trip down Rte 3A on to 6 and Hyannis, take the ferry to Nantucket for 2 days ,then bike down to Provincetown and take the boat back to Boston. It all seemed quit reasonable –hey when we were 13 Hobbsie and I rode our 3 speed bikes from Quincy to Scusset Beach at the Canal and back, 110 miles in about 14 hours, so this was not such a big deal, less miles in a day and hey I was only 34.
With some good rides for conditioning and panniers packed I kissed Cyndy and was off on an August weekday morning. It was sunny, a little hot ,no wind as I cruised easily along Rte 3A, stopping for a breather and lunch in Plymouth I again hit the road…it was about 3 o’clock this Friday afternoon ,I was feeling good ,on my way to a nearby hostel for the night, thinking back over the year when WHAM! I heard a very near explosion and in the second as I was questioning what was that? I was on the windshield of a car, the brakes screeched and I literally flew through the air, landing on my arse in the middle of the lane I whipped around and there was the car skidding toward me, the bumper was not much more than a foot from my head, with my bike totally pulled under it. I did a save my life reverse crab walk on all fours to avoid being crushed- it’s amazing how instinct to survive kicks instantly in and how fast you can move when you live or die need to! The car skidded to a stop on the shoulder and I stood up …I never thought of this before but from her vantage point the driver likely thought she had driven right over me and was shocked when I stood up in front of the car. Anyway the details from that point are sketchy in my memory, but I do recall the woman driver being quite upset, the police coming and both of us going off in ambulances to get checked out at the local hospital …her husband came to pick her up and inquire about me. I was OK I told them and assured them that if they would drive me to the hostel I planned to stay in and next day bring me to a bike shop and replace my bike and bags, once I got the anti-freeze washed out of my clothes I would be happy to ride off down the road as planned and not hold them further responsible. Hey I was fine, just a little shaken up, not legal suit-happy at all and just wanted to do my long anticipated bike trip. They agreed and dropped me off at the hostel. I called Cyndy and gave her a report on my day’s travel minus any mention of the accident after all I was OK; I did not want to upset her, have her come rushing down etc. and I expected to be on the road next day. I promised to call next eve from the Nantucket hostel and signed off with love. I was a little riled up as every time I closed my eyes I heard the sound of the crash, but finally I fell asleep.
In the morning the driver's husband true to his word picked me up and within several hours with clean clothes, new same model 12 speed and panniers I was off ,finished Rte 3A and on to 6A to Hyannis and caught the ferry to Nantucket as I planned. I checked into the hostel an old lighthouse/coast guard station then rode into town to check it out,found myself in a bookstore and the first book my eyes settled on ironically and portentiously was “Life After Life” by Raymond Moody MD, stories of the back from the dead and near death encounters – the common denominator in each case an experience of death as not of pain and to be feared and people coming back because it was not their time yet -and this encouner profoundly changed the course of life and anticipation of death. I bought it and rode back to the hostel and about 8 called Cyndy to let her know how I was doing. She sounded a little off asking me how my day went. I said great and she came back with “Well how did you like your ambulance ride to the hospital yesterday? Oh damn I came back how did you find out about that? “The ambulance company called me yesterday and asked how would Michael be paying for the ambulance? “ She told me how she was so upset and confused until she figured out the timing that I had called her last night after the time of the ambulance ride –so I just had not mentioned it to her during my call. “Why didn’t you tell me? ” I answered back somewhat sheepisly if truthfuly –“I was fine and did not want to get you upset and feeling like you had to drive down to pick me up; the plan seemed reasonable to get back on the road and I’d tell you when I got home.” As I thought about it I really had left her unfairly if well-intentioned out of the loop. “It was really scary for me and we need to have a big talk about this when you get home!” After “I’m sorry and I love you” I hung up with the promise to call in the eve of the next 3 remaining days. I read the near death book with lots to think about, I slept pretty well and next day before catching the ferry went to the beach; it was overcast and I fell asleep for a little while and ironically ended up with a sunburn on my belly way worse than any minor aches I had from flying through the air off a carhood! After the ferry back to the mainland I continued on down to Provincetown where I got a closet sized room for overnight , strolled around the main street surplus and book stores,rode out to the National Seashore and the P-Town side streets, continued eating my special diet plan of preservatives and sweets. I did a lot of thinking about the accident- as so often inches and seconds make the difference between life and death, health and injury. Looking back I never figured how the driver hit me, such a big target at the side of the road, wearing a white T-shirt, no impediment to visibility; alcohol did not seem to be a factor – may be she sneezed or was changing the radio station …it happened and I was able to ride away gratefully with no ill effects (I have never been the kind per foregoing episodes to call James Suesalot or other personal injury vampire attorneys (I did learn later that there are individuals who when funds are low or a special need arises find themselves on the floor of the frozen food aisle of the nearest big super market.) Next day I was on the big boat for the 3 hour trip to Boston. I had told Cyndy I’d just ride my bike home from South Boston but she insisted in coming to pick me up, I could put the bike in the car trunk. Well we had a happy reunion, with a promise for future full disclosure . I had my bike trip and much more that I had bargained for…a lesson in sharing at the heart of our relationship and yet another close call for me and the moral – not my time yet, fear not the reaper , continue to be careful,roll and bounce with the punches , live fully and happily.
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