Damn, That Was Close!

Now it's time to document one of those things you just can't share with the wife.

It's about 7:45 in the morning, and I'm riding my bike down Oak Knoll Road on the way to Edgewood so I could get the daily exercise out of the way. There is a bit of fog shrouding the Emerald Hills area, and there is a sheen of dew dressing the road in random splotches, so I'm keeping the downhill descent to around 20 miles per hour, maybe a skosh more.

I'm cruising near the Emerald Market, making sure to stay far enough outside of the parked cars to avoid someone opening the door as I slid by, which would lead to a really bad day.

But bad days come in all shapes in sizes. Perhaps the same size as a full-size Lexus SUV, who was turning out into the road without looking behind him or into the rearview mirror, and shooting out into MY LANE AND I CAN'T STOP IN TIME!

I turn out to the left (thankfully no oncoming cars), feel the rattle of my way-to-skinny-tires rumbling on the buttons as I cross over into the other lane while I'm screaming WATCH OUT, GOD DAMMIT! and thinking that my unborn baby is not going to ever see its father's face and I don't know how my wife is going to raise the baby without me and will she remember December 31, 2008 as the day her husband died and 2009 will be the year she became a widow as I see the front fender of the SUV just barely miss me and I pass the monster truck and stop at the stop sign, resting my arms on the brakes with my head cradled in my hands for a few brief seconds.

The SUV drives next to me and the driver looks at me, and he mouths something without lowering the window. I can't tell if he is saying he's sorry or if he's yelling at me to watch out, after all, he should be almost as scared as I am. I don't know what he said, and I never will, but from now on, it's even slower when I ride by the Market in the morning.