Cycling stories.

The Hubski team in the Charity Miles app will be reaching 1000 miles soon. If you ever carry a smartphone through time and space using muscle power, you could be the one to hit that milestone, while supporting a charity of your choice.

Crash #1

I have wrecked two or three times, but all were in snow, at low speed and with soft landings. So I only have stories of other cyclists' crashes.

Last week I was behind a guy wearing what looked like a wingsuit, some kind of poncho for the light drizzle. A deer crossed the trail right in front of him, but he braked enough to avoid a collision. I caught up to make a joke about venison and discovered that it was the kid's soccer coach. I don't think I've ever encountered a familiar face on the trail, except for a neighbor (and the kid's taekwondo instructor) when he was out running.

The soccer coach stopped to adjust his poncho after the rain became a downpour and I went on ahead. After I got home I sent him an e-mail saying I had been about to warn him about the wreckage I had seen on a rainy day in the spring at the bottom of a hill we were approaching before he stopped. The descent ends in a blind corner, and it looked like two guys met head-to-head. There were bike accessories scattered around, and one rider had an ugly lump on one shin, but no serious injuries.

The coach wrote back, agreeing about the danger of that hill. The next day he wrote again saying he had seen an ambulance at that very spot, loading a guy on a stretcher, who he predicted would be sore tomorrow. I got a flat on that hill once, it must be haunted or something. I always take it slow.

Crash #3

I was walking on the sidewalk near where I found a cell phone. Radio Paradise was playing "Carbon Kid" and I barely heard a voice call from behind before a cyclist passed a bit too fast and a bit too close. Then a car pulled out of a garage directly in front of him, forcing him to brake hard and turn into the road to avoid impact. He bumped into the passenger side fender anyway, and since the driver hadn't seen him she continued to pull into the road. The cyclist, teetering, was forced parallel to the car as it turned toward him until he was knocked facedown onto the road. The driver must have heard or felt something and stopped, just before the rear wheel would have rolled over the fallen rider.

I stood frozen like an idiot, staring in stunned silence. The guy got up and rolled his bike back to the sidewalk, while the driver jumped out and began asking if he was okay about a hundred times. "I'm okay, I'm just worried about my bike." "You can always get a new bike," I said, continuing in idiot mode. It was kind of a junky ride, but the wheels still spun freely as he tested them. He convinced the driver to go on. I thought they should at least exchange phone numbers, but the cyclist's girlfriend or biking companion had appeared so I didn't interfere. I studied the car's license plate, not sure what else to do, then immediately forgot it. The guy seemed okay so I walked on. A minute later the two cyclists passed me again and continued on their way.

The time I definitely didn't crash

I got dropped off at the metro station to retrieve my parked bike. The kid wanted to join me going home. It's just over a mile so I figured it would be a nice walk.

But it seems so silly walking with a perfectly serviceable bike. I had an idea. It was not my road bike, but the sturdy old hybrid I ride to the train when I'm too lazy to bike to work. I convinced the kid to sit on the seat and keep his feet tucked back on top of the cargo rack, while hugging my waist. I stood up on the pedals and put it in low gear and off we went, in a configuration I haven't seen in this country since my childhood but see all the time in places that aren't so uptight about [scare quotes] safety.

I figured the biggest risk was someone calling the cops since we didn't even have our helmets. I was on super-high alert and avoiding streets, sticking to the dedicated bike trail, so it seemed unlikely the heat would catch us, but public opprobrium would be harder to avoid.

No one said anything until we were almost home, and a cyclist passed and said "I like your style!" cheerfully. Maybe a personal injury lawyer.