By Jennifer Blaine — When I still raced, my team went on a trip to Grand Junction, and a few teammates and I were out on a training ride near the Palisades. It was a two-lane road out near some orchards. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, not much traffic and perfect weather for a ride.
The road didn’t have a big shoulder, so we rode single file sticking close to the white line.
As we rode along, we noticed we were approaching another cyclist. He was riding some sort of casual commuter bike with a ball cap on his head. As we drew closer to him, we prepared to pass, but he looked back to check traffic and moved over to apparently turn into a neighborhood.
As he started his turn, we passed almost directly to his right. Suddenly, an SUV struck him from behind at 45 or 50 mph.
Everything happened so fast that I can’t recount every detail, yet I’ll never forget the sound or what I saw.
The car hit this poor guy like a missile as he enjoyed a peaceful bike ride. I can’t explain the severity of the sound. I only recall hearing a loud bang as thousands of pounds of metal struck a flimsy aluminum skeleton that crackled and clacked. He flew literally 10 feet into the air and came crashing down in a mangled mess in the middle of the road.
My mind took a few seconds to comprehend what had just happened. My teammates and I stood stunned. An eerie silence hung over us—probably nanoseconds but it felt like forever—before we reacted.
I knew I needed to check on the man lying on the ground, but I feared what state I might find him in or what unforgettable sight I might see. Strangely, pure horror surrounded me, yet I remained calm while my teammates did not. They started screaming and crying hysterically. One of them went over to the driver who had struck the man and began yelling and cursing at her profusely.
I approached the man. I won’t lie—I was scared because the impact had been so violent and I knew he wasn’t wearing a helmet. Even if he had worn a helmet, I knew this would be bad. I also knew that when he came back down after flying into the air, he had landed on his back with his head hitting the asphalt.
When I reached him, he was trying to get up—shock was surely driving his attempt. I told him to lie down and wait for the ambulance. He had suffered terrible injuries. His head looked like a cracked egg with blood gushing all around it, and his eyeballs looked dislodged from their sockets. I tried to comfort him or at least keep him calm until the ambulance came. Then an ice cream truck pulled up. The driver jumped out and ran over to us. He said, “dude, you are f—ed up!”
It was the worst thing he could have said to this poor man in his moment of complete agony.
The ambulance came shortly after and rushed him away. I didn’t even know the man’s name, and our team headed back home the next morning.
The girl who hit him was 16 or 17. She claimed she thought he was riding with us (my teammates and me) and didn’t know he would turn. I call total BS on that—she was going way too fast and not paying attention, because he had checked traffic before initiating his turn.
This experience seriously haunted me for quite a while. I couldn’t ride my bike on the road. I would freak out when I heard a pack of cars approaching from behind. I tried to find out the gentleman’s name. After some searching, I found that his family had started a GoFundMe page for all his medical expenses. I learned he was an engineer. I called the hospital and police department but never got his information. I just wanted to check on him. I’m sure his life or physical mobility would never be the same after such a terrible “accident.”
I’m writing this because we’re approaching the same time of year as that horrible day. I also want to remind people how easily anyone can kill or badly injure someone with their car.
I’ve had close calls with drivers while on my bike. Granted, I’ve been riding for over 20 years, but this could happen to anyone—any age, any experience level. Your neighbor, your sister, a friend, whoever.
Please take driving seriously and exercise ultimate caution when passing cyclists, pedestrians, or even other drivers.
Your two seconds of whizzing by a cyclist, squeezing too close because you can’t wait for oncoming traffic to clear so you can pass safely, speeding up and cutting them off before a turn—whatever it is—it’s not worth someone dying or suffering grave injury.
