Somber Ending in London

I’ve just seen a bad bike accident, right on Liverpool street in front of the train station. Bent wheels, crumpled body, limp legs. Black shoes and jeans, a green IV line limply hanging from a bag.

Police rush to the scene. In a flash of twirling lights, there are tens of them rushing to the wounded man. They cordon off the area with yellow tape and ask crying witnesses to sit down and be truly witness. One of them pulls the IV out and no one tries CPR. The body lays there in the road as thousands of Friday night drinkers glower from their bar corners. Most seem like they are watching a TV show.

I stand a little tipsy after two hand pulled English ales, thank you card in my hand slowly slipping from my grasp as I realize how easily it could have been me. My thoughts turn to earlier when Jan and I discussed how many people get killed in London on bikes. “So many leave in coffins, so please be careful and don’t think that you have to prove anything.”

Riding a bike in an urban area is not something to be taken lightly. When you first start out, it’s really fun and it seems so simple. You’re dodging in and out of traffic, whizzing through lights and getting somewhere really fast. You are free on the only free thing left in our society. You think nothing can happen to you because after a while you get really good at handling the bike. You wonder what everyone was talking about when they told you that it’s dangerous. You keep wondering this until the day you have your first bad wreck. It happens to everyone who bikes.

One day you’re cycling along in the sun, wind whipping your ears, without a care in the world. Suddenly, and without any warning, a car swerves in front of you to stop suddenly and you are over your bars and over the car in mid-air before you have time to realize it. Your brain barely recognizes that this is going to hurt as the pavement rushes up to meet you body and you tumble into blackness.

That’s how it happened to me anyway in Portland around 1998. Since then, I’ve been in so many crashes, big and small, that they tend to blend together. One thing is constant. Each one of them taught me something about cause and effect. Each wreck I lived through made me a better cyclist. If riding in New York can be considered graduate school for biking, however, then London deserves its place as a doctoral thesis.

My one day of cycling here has already taught me how deadly these streets are. It also serves as a reminder of the long journey which is ahead of me. I need to remember to be careful and to use everything I’ve learned so far. I’ve heard that London is the worst place to ride in Europe. That remains to be seen. If this is any indication of how the trip will go, I need to remember to stay a little scared. When you stay scared, you stay alert. When you are alert, you stand a better chance of seeing the thing that will kill you.

Anyway, I’m leaving my host family tomorrow with the best wishes and hopes for a future reunion. They have truly made this experience in London the best possible time one can have. I will never forget their generosity and kindness for taking this Oregon boy in and making him feel as if this was his home.

All in all, I saw some great things here. The Tower of London, the Houses of Parliament, The London Eye, the Millennium Bridge, Westminster Abbey, Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar Square. The list is endless because everywhere you turn here is famous. Please enjoy the attached videos of some of my travels! I’ve got some great stuff about biking here!

Cheers and on to France in the morning!