TheBanyanTree: ass over appetite

[Mike Pingleton]

The car was approaching on a side street and at some point I knew it wasn't
going to stop at the sign. The driver had his head cocked to the side,
talking on his cell phone.  He hit the brakes in the middle of the
intersection, putting his car directly in front of me.  I locked mine up;
the front brakes were better than the back, and over the handlebars I went.
I was dumped into the street near his right front quarter panel. My bicycle
turned over too, bouncing and clattering on the pavement.

I knew I was OK straight away, save for ripped jeans and a scraped hand. My
thoughts turned to the laptop in my knapsack, with big chunks of my life
inside - poems, pictures, the books I'm working on. Fortunately I landed on
my head, and not my knapsack. I got up. The guy was still in the car, both
hands on the wheel now, not daring to look at me, staring straight ahead.

When I get really angry, my vision darkens, and it's like being in a tunnel.
I could feel it building, almost in waves. I had to do something - the black
flag would fly if this guy got out of the car.  "GET OUT OF HERE!" I
screamed at the car. The guy didn't move, and I got angrier.  "GO!" I
screamed. I could just tell the guy wanted to go, but wouldn't leave - that
would be leaving the scene of a really stupid thing he just did. I knew he
was torn.

I picked up my bike and moved to the back of his car. "GET OUT OF HERE!" I
yelled again. He went.

I walked my bike over the curb and put the chain back on. A guy in a pickup
truck pulled over "Did that guy just hit you?" he asked. "I was a couple
blocks away but it looked like he hit you - want me to call the cops?"

He didn't hit me, I told him.  I said the stupid fucking moron was on his
cell phone. The guy shook his head. I told him thanks for stopping, I really
appreciated it.

It turned out to be the end of the line for my old Schwinn. One of the rear
forks was snapped, close to the tang, right at the wheel mount. There was no
repair for this type of damage. I had pedaled nearly six thousand miles on
the old girl; I traded her in on a new Giant, with a lifetime guarantee on
the frame. The bike shop gave me twenty bucks for my old red bike, scrap
metal and parts now.

We live in an age where techology outstrips both common sense and social
mores. Eventually, once enough people are killed or maimed, laws will be
passed prohibiting cell phone use in automobiles. I could stand to die of
many things but death by cell phone is not one of them.