Thursday morning September 18, just before 9:00 - Bethany Blvd at HW 26 - Climate: moist and cool - Pavement: concrete compositeThanks to a tall, blonde, Ed Bagely Jr.-looking asshole in a white Ford pickup I have to attempt an emergency stop on the scooter. Needless to say, the wheelbarrow-like tires are not up to the job and they skid horribly out of control. The tiny bike falters and flails and pitches me forward and I can't help but apply more brake and lock up the front tire completely, resulting in a high-side accident.
As I cart wheeled off the bike my right thigh clipped the left mirror, ripping it from its mount and leaving a nasty bruise that I would discover later. I'm not sure where I hit next because I was mostly concerned about my face rapidly approaching the pavement. Fortunately the cheap 3-snap shield and THH scooter helmet did their jobs and my face is still in-tact, but somewhere in there my right hand and left knee met the ground. As I lay there for a moment, taking stock and making sure I can still move my hands and feet, the driver of the Ford got out and asked if I was OK. I said I thought I was and another guy asked if I could move.
When I reached out for a hand up the other guy (he had been driving the car behind me) helped me out while the Ford driver stood dumbly by. He again asked if I was OK - mind you, less than a minute ago I was upright and on my way to work - and I may have nodded. He then got back into his truck and drove away. The other driver helped me to the sidewalk and then pushed the scooter to the side of the road. He directed traffic around us while I caught my breath and slowly started removing gear.
First came the helmet - fresh air never tasted so good - and I was happy to see that there was only a minor scratch on the shield and no contact points on the helmet itself. Once I could breathe again I started flexing my legs and decided they were sore and wobbly, but unbroken. Then I started pulling off my gloves - the right one resisted, but finally relinquished its swollen prize. I looked at my hand and couldn't quite comprehend what I was seeing. It appeared my thumb was on backwards. I looked at the good Samaritan who was kindly still hanging about making sure no one ran over me, and said, "I think that is going to require medical attention." He gulped, agreed with my assessment, and called 911.
This nice guy, who's name I didn't get, waited for the ambulance to arrive before he continued on with his day. Whoever he is he has my eternal gratitude. I would have felt so lost if he'd abandoned me on the sidewalk in favor of getting to work on time.
Turns out the thumb was really REALLY dislocated and they had to knock me out in order to fix it. I'm encased in a cast from the tip of my thumb to my elbow for the next couple weeks, and with any luck I won't have to have surgery; but I am seeing a hand specialist later this week.
