Last week, after my first two wheeled tumble on Elizabeth st, someone jokingly said, “Oh be careful Talor, you know bad things always happen in three’s”.
I’m not sure if that idea planted itself somewhere deep in my unconscious but later on in the week, just after getting my British cycling green Raleigh back from the bike shop and making tracks for Prudence to celebrate the Easter long weekend. I cleaned up a pedestrian on Swanston st. I’m glad they are changing that street from its current lay out because as I crossed the intersection, a drunken punter from the pub on the corner rushed out ahead of the green signal and right into where I was planning to ride. Everything happened so fast that before I knew it, I was being hauled onto the sidewalk out of the way of traffic, dealing with the glares of cyclist hating citizens.
I brushed myself off, gratefully accepted the water given to me by a concerned security guard and tried to salvage my dignity by walking my bike away from the scene. Only to then be followed by who I soon found out to be a single father of one from Glenroy who was in the city celebrating his football teams win. He was concerned for my health after the accident. Also my current marital status. Obviously he thought a woman that could so gracefully take out a drunken idiot would be a great role model for his child.
The only thing I took away from the accident was some fresh grazes and bruises on top of the ones I already had.
Then came number three. I rolled over and peered into a drizzly morning over Moonee Ponds. The rain was light enough so I wouldn’t have to take my chances being late for work on the train, so at 7:30am, I pumped up my tyres and hit the road. I made it all the way to Footscray before the car in front of me slammed on its breaks at a free intersection and I, with rain slicked wheels, hurtled into the back of it. Genuinely, it was my most pain free accident of the whole three but my bike had finally packed it in.
So, goodbye my beautiful trusty steed. You served me well!