Most of my mild injuries from my April 5th bike accident were gone in a few weeks. Eventually it’s determined I hit my head so I purchase a new helmet. However, the back pain lingers.
I am blessed that the driver’s insurance will cover the cost of a new bike. I just have to choose it.
About a week after the accident I reluctantly stopped at World of Wheels. Eric, the sales clerk, clearly explains the differences between the two bikes similar to my wrecked bike.
“I like the coral color better.” I know color won’t be a deciding factor. I’ve ridden enough miles to recognize I want the features I had on my old bike. “I’m going to get the fluorescent yellow one.”
“It has to be ordered,” he says. “We don’t have your size.”
“That’s okay. I need to wait for the insurance check anyway.”
Five days later the phone rings. “I’m calling from World of Wheels. Your bike came in today. When would you like to pick it up?”
Silence. How did it come in so fast? “Ummm. When will it be ready?”
“By the end of today.”
“Okay.” I thought I’d have longer. I’m not ready to actually pick-up the bike yet.
Then I remember a delay tactic. Eric said, “If you bring in your old bike, we’ll transfer your GPS, pedals, and seat to your new bike.” A sigh of relief. I don’t have to get my bike yet.
My husband asks, “Do you want me to pick up the bike for you?”
I’ll get it when I’m ready. It’s paid for. It can just sit there a while. “No. I need to get it myself.” I know actually picking up my bike is part of the healing process. “But you can take in my old bike in tomorrow so they can transfer the stuff.” That will buy me more time.
On Saturday, Rick totes the mangled bike to the bike store. While he’s there he tells Eric, “Marian’s pretty scared. She’s only riding a little bit in our neighborhood on her old bike.”
Another voice pipes up. “Hi, I’m Brian. I work in the back. We’ll have your wife’s bike ready in an hour. I overheard your conversation. I live out in the country. I’ve helped other riders after an accident. Your wife can ride with me and other riders on Monday and Tuesday mornings. There’s almost no traffic so she’ll be safe.”
Rick relays the offer to me. A safe place to ride my bike. Riding with someone else. Away from traffic. That could work. God had intervened. It wasn’t a coincidence that Rick’s conversation was overheard and a solution was offered.
But if I am going to ride on Monday, I want to ride my new bike.
Late Sunday afternoon, Rick drives me to the bike store. I’m pretty nervous. I’m not sure how I’ll respond when I see my bike. I imagine myself bursting into tears. I wander cautiously towards the back of the store.
Then I see it. I grin. That’s my new neon yellow bike. The clerk holds my bike while I awkwardly climb on. Then he adjusts the seat height. “Do you want to ride it?”
“No. Not today. I’m going to ride tomorrow morning with Brian and Josh.”
That was on April 18, 2016.
You can read about the bike accident in my blog, 81 Days to Victory.