I’ve always wondered what it would be like to get hit by a car.

Well, not really.

But it’s one of those things I would wonder vaguely from time to time – like sometimes I wonder how it would feel to drown or to hang yourself. I guess I can have pretty morbid thoughts, but it’s not like I want to kill myself anymore.

I remember watching an episode of Jackass where Johnny Knoxville gets hit by a car on purpose (at least I think it was Knoxville). And I would think, maybe I should try that. The thought would leave my head as soon as it materialised in its fully matured form. Ok I think I’m just babbling and avoiding the main point of this post which is to talk about what it actually feels like to get hit by a car.

My own unique experience starts on a Monday morning.

At roughly 830am I get my bike from the garage and get ready to (wearily) cycle to work. I say ‘cycle to work’ to actually refer to a journey that has 3 parts: the first leg is about 20-25 minutes on the bike to the train station, then a 4-minute train ride (2 stops) before the final leg which is another 15 minutes on the bike to my office. Let’s just call this ‘cycling to work’.

I was cycling to work when, really not very far from the house, let’s say less than 3 mins by bike, I spot a car reversing out of a driveway about 15 metres ahead. I slow down and ride slower. The car reverses fully out and drives off. It is a white sedan. Anyways, I am still cycling relatively slowly, approaching the house the car just left. I am cycling not on the main road but on the pedestrian/cyclist path. As I am reaching the house, I realise (too late) a toyota prado (big one) is reversing out quite fast. I brake but it’s too late (even though I’m going pretty slowly).

Everything happens kind of in slow motion. The car keeps coming. My mouth automatically opens and a strangled scream escapes. I am aware that I am airborne and crash-land a couple of metres away, into the sand in front of a tree that lines the sidewalk/path. The wind is knocked out of me. I can’t really hear anything, which is why I am not aware that I am groaning til a few seconds later when the driver of the vehicle is talking to me. So far, the only thought in my mind is “shit, I’ve been hit, I’ve fallen, I hope I didn’t chip a tooth!!”

Driver: “Are you okay?? Oh my god I’m so sorry! Are you okay??”

Me: “Ahh…. ahh….”

Driver: “Can you hear me, are you okay? I’m so sorry!!”

Me: *stops groaning and struggles to get up*

He helps me up and I can’t really remember anything much between the time I get up and when he races into the house to get me a chair and a bag of ice for my knee. I don’t even feel the pain yet. It looks a little swollen already. In my head I am thinking how lucky I was to be wearing my helmet. It’s required by law here of course but Ive seen loads of cyclists without helmets. Then I see my fingernails are caked in dirt. As is most of my body really. I had applied sunscreen before leaving the house so the sand sticks to my legs and arms and in my cleavage.

Helping me onto the chair and propping my leg up, the driver helps to put the ice on my knee, smashing the bag on the ground a few times to break up the ice. He is nervous as hell. He apologises a million times more and asks me if I need a ride somewhere. He doesn’t strictly offer to take me to the doctor, I notice, but he does offer me a ride and shit. My bike is lying in a heap under the car, but he retrieves it and it seems fine, undamaged. He props it up against the wall. He asks me if I’m ok.

“I’m ok,” I croak, realising that there’s sand in my mouth and throat, making my teeth crunch together when I speak. Without thinking I spit the sand out of my mouth. “It’s ok, I’m ok. My knee hurts.”

He tells me he and the wife just had a fight and he was just taking his baby daughter (I spot her in the baby seat in his car) to the doctor. He tells me he really didn’t see me and that he’s sorry. And then he tells m his car is insured and gives me all his details, driver’s license, registration number etc, in case I need to claim anything. I numbly take my notebook out of my backpack and write it all down. He asks me if I’m at Uni, and I tell him I’m on my way to work, that I’m a technical writer for a mining fabrication company. He works at the Water Corporation, is a public servant apparently.

Finally I tell him I just want to go home. He asks me if I would like a lift there. I tell him no my house is really nearby and I just want to go home. He asks me if I want a damp cloth. I realise I am still covered in sand and can’t very well go anywhere with a shitload of sand inside my shirt and cleavage. He goes and gets me a towel with one end party soaked. I clean myself up, and I don’t care that I’m outside and everyone can see me including him, I basically dig the sand out from between my boobs and wipe my cleavage clean.

It seemed like an eternity but finally I tell him thanks and bye and he apologises again and I hobble with my bike in the direction of home. Halfway home I wonder if I should just go to work because I can still walk and it doesn’t hurt TOO much. But then I tell myself not to be stupid and start wondering how I’ll get myself to the doctor.

At the traffic lights where I’m about to cross, it’s the same driver who stops and rolls down the window, asking me again if I want a lift. I say no I am going home, it’s ok, thanks.

I really just don’t know what to do or think in that situation.

Once I cross, a lady on a bicycle stops and asks me if I was the girl who got knocked off her bike just now. I say yeah. She asks me if I’m okay. I say I am. She tells me to go to the doctor and take care of myself. I thank her and continue on.

When I reach home, thank heavens, Michael is outside. Just about to leave for work. In a wobbly voice I call out to him. He looks at me as if he doesn’t recognise me (I’m dirty). I say, “Michael, you won’t believe what happened to me – I got hit by a car.”

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Do you want me to take you to the doctor?”

I tell him yes, yes please take me to the doctor. He calls work to let them know he’ll be late, we go inside, I change clothes and clean myself up a bit, put ice on my knee, have a coffee, then he takes me to the doctor.

Long story short, there’s nothing seriously wrong with my knee, it;s just bruised and swollen, but the doc says if it doesn’t get better/gets worse in 2-3 days I have to come back for an x-ray. That was on Monday, today is Saturday and my knee is painful but much better. I can walk without hobbling and the swelling has gone down a lot. It feels a bit funny and when I poke a certain part of it, i leaves a dent. But i hope it’s just the fluid or whatever that’s down there. In any case it doesn’t hurt TOO much. I did get a tetanus shot though, that hurt a LOT and my arm was swollen for 3 days.

Now, post-crash, there are a few things that make me realise how lucky I am.

1. When I was hit, I didn’t land on the road. I landed in the sand. Soft, cushiony sand. And I didn’t crash into the tree which I could have done if I had been cycling a little bit faster. I could have crashed into it headfirst. I didn’t even land on the brick path which would have hurt even more. I have a few small scrapes, and a major bruise, that’s all.

2. Michael was there to take me to the doctor pretty much straight away. If he hadn’t been there, I’m not sure I would have gone, honestly.

3. I called in sick to work, and at the same time cursed myself because I won’t be able to send my timesheet in time and thus wouldn’t get paid til next week. Quite a substantial pay packet and now I’d have to wait an extra week for it. Well, turns out the kind people at work sent in the timesheet for me (they weren’t sure of my hours so they just filled it in and signed it and told me to adjust the following timesheet as necessary). They overpaid me by an hour, heh, so for this week’s hours I subtracted an hour. But what that means was that I got paid anyways as I usually do and I am so grateful for that.

4. My bike was totally, completely, UNDAMAGED. In fact, I rode it to work on Wednesday and Thursday without incident – save for me wincing and breaking out in a cold sweat when I passed the scene of the crash.

5. The support and kind words of most people here and back home made me realise I should really be grateful for what I have… and that I didn’t get killed or suffer broken bones and major injuries.

Call me crazy but I jut felt LUCKY.