I was cycling down to Hammersmith for another swim (managed to push myself to the limit of human endurance and do my 50 lengths in 29mins53 seconds - an amazing 1 min 11 off my record). Heading down the street of the stars (Hammersmith Grove where quite a few celebs live if you want to do any stalking) as usual two or three cars didn't spot me immediately as they were pulling out of parking spaces or turning into the road. Luckily they then looked properly well in time, but I was again contemplating the dangers of cycling, where one's life is threatened so often in a five minute journey. I was thinking about one of my friend who recently got knocked off her bike and badly shaken up (though luckily not hurt) by someone who hadn't seen her at some traffic lights and her friend who had recently told me about how she lost her front teeth when she was hit by a car. So I was being super vigilant, whilst also thinking of how much broken teeth and bones would hurt, when I cam very close to a really nasty accident. Just as I was passing a parked white van, the driver appeared out of nowhere, without looking, pushing some boxes on one of those little metal trolleys. It was simply thrust into the space that my bike was occupying - I may have had time to slightly swerve, but my shin still banged sharply against one of the boxes. I was actually incredibly lucky that that was all that happened. A fraction of a second and a fraction of an inch difference in the incidence and I would have been sent flying into the road and suffered who knows what injuries. Luckily I was able to keep control of the bike and braked to a halt a few feet away, in disbelief at the man's stupidity and angry that his thoughtlessness could easily have been a lot worse. My leg hurt and I needed to ascertain if I was all right (as it happened I had just broken the skin in a couple of places).
I turned round to see the white van man cheerily continuing pushing his trolley up to the side door of the van. His nonchalance annoyed me. It would have been good to see him exhibit some concern or even remorse for the consequences of his stupidity and maybe come and check that I was OK. I shouted at him a bit and told him that if he was going to be such a dick about it that I would take his numberplate and get in touch with the company who he worked for, whose name was conveniently emblazoned on the back of his vehicle. And even though he looked pretty hard, I was once again tempted in my anger to go and remonstrate with him physically. Having had your life put in danger does heighten your anger I find.
Luckily he shouted some kind of half-hearted apology at me (and I was relieved to hear he had an Irish accent, as I thought he might have been another street-fighter in my continuing feud with the city of Liverpool) and as a few seconds had passed and I had realised that any damage was small I had calmed down and I left it.
So I was lucky not to be hurt and I thought to myself that had things gone slightly differently I might even have been killed by this irresponsible idiot. It was unlikely, but I was probably traveling fast enough for a spill to have caused an unpleasant level of damage and pain, just as I was considering that exact consequence.
It got me thinking about what the closest to death I have been in my life and I realised there have been very few life threatening incidents in my life. I have had no real serious illnesses, although I had whooping cough at about 8 weeks, where things were a bit worrying apparently, but I don't remember much about that. I was once in the middle of the redwood forest in California, working on a summer camp when there was a gigantic fire, but I didn't get close to it and luckily it was contained after a pretty terrifying hour or so. Apart from that I could think of nothing at all. Though I finally did recall another incident involving a bike from when I was 16 or 17. I was returning from my girlfriend's house in Shipham, which was up a steep hill from Cheddar and was riding on her little sister's bike. I am not entirely sure of the reason for this. I think I had left my bike with my girlfriend so she could come down to see me later. The bike I was on was much too small for me, but I was making a good go of making it work out. In fact I was cruising down a rather steep slope, pretending to be Sid Vicious on his motorbike in the Great Rock N Roll Swindle. I was going fast, and I started to lose control and the brakes on this child's bike were not very efficient and I ended up falling off the bike and sliding some way down the tar mac on my side. I wouldn't have been wearing a helmet (no-one cared about that kind of things in the 80s) and was lucky there was not a lorry or car coming the other way. The bike was broken and I had scraped my skin on my side and had to hitchhike home, putting my child's bike into the back of some kind woman's car.
Though it hurt a bit and I still have a scar I didn't come anywhere near actually dying, but I think that's the closest I have come. So far. There are still opportunities to come. In fact some might argue that one day I will actually make it all the way.
