The day was December 22, 2015, this writer was pedaling the sidewalk on 12 Mile, headed en route home on a very mild winter evening. While passing the mall area, I came across an area where cars were coming out onto 12 Mile; four lanes, two cars coming, two cars going. I get by the first two incoming lanes with no issues. Next, I make eye contact with the first car in the outgoing lane, the guy sees me and I pedal by. The final pass is where the fun happens. I make eye contact with the vehicle in the last lane and swear for the life of me that he sees me as well. I start to pedal, am directly in front of the vehicle and.....he starts to drive. Down goes Reeves!!!! Pinned under the front portion of the vehicle, I said a few things that came to mind, namely WTF?!?!? I yelled for the guy to quickly back up as my right foot/leg was crammed between his front tire and my bike frame. Thankfully he did as one more foot forward would have been some form of broken limb for me. The guy gets out of his car with a hundred apologies. I gave him some more WTF?!?!? talk. I was in a bit of shock so I can't remember what exactly his alibi was on the brain fart he had. All I know is he had one. I moved my body parts and besides some bruises and body parts that would eventually swell to about three times their size by the time I got home that night, thankfully nothing was broken. With that, I told the guy I would live and let him go on his way after a few more WTF?!?!? comments to him. So there I am tinkering with my bike damage (about $120 worth) so I could pedal home in pain when two good Samaritans (are there 'bad' Samaritans?) jump out of their cars and tell me the guy who hit me left the scene and they had his plate number. I told them that I let the guy go and was okay. They were adamant that they would get the guy and there was no way I was okay. I assured them again that I was okay and off my bloody body with a wobbly back tire (had to remove the back brake cable to pedal) went home. As I start to pedal, I can hear the guy who helped out talking on his phone. He is still calling it in. I was about a mile from home and hear sirens in the distance. That is my ambulance I was guessing. No ambulance for me thank you; just three days of some serious wincing.
This wasn't my first experience of distracted driving though. I may have created the process.
Queue the Way Back Machine to November of 1983 as young, stupid Tim had just turned 16; drivers license time!!!! The day you thought would never come was here!!! I can't believe kids today aren't as giddy to get their license. I thought I would get struck down in some freak way that would prevent me from getting to my 16th birthday. I made it!
My wheels at the time were in the form of a 1976 fire engine red Ford Pinto with a manual transmission. I had no manual transmission experience but we'll get to that part of the story in a bit. My dad, with his big heart, helped this guy from Ortonville who was having some hard luck and needed some cash for his family. He had some car fixing ability so my dad paid him to get the Pinto ready for young, stupid Tim's driving career. The guy put a lot of time in that car and it worked well for the short time I had it. Yes, it was a short career for me with that Pinto.
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| corner where I totaled my Pinto in 1983 |
It was a gray Saturday morning and we had basketball practice up at the high school. I'm driving home with Al C. in the passenger seat. My clutch/accelerator combination was a bit ugly but improving every day. So there we were at the stop light at Milford/Livingston Rd. I'm in the left turn lane on Milford headed onto Livingston. The light turns green and young, stupid Tim is overly focused on getting that clutch/accelerator combination so he wouldn't stall or get that embarrassing jump the car can do when you have too much of one while still pushing the other. Concentrating on the oncoming traffic would have been a better choice as I nailed the clutch/accelerator combination but put us right in front of a car coming straight through. Wham!!!! Into the passenger side (sorry Al) the vehicle hit us. No injuries to report but the short life of my Pinto regime was over. It was totaled. The police arrive to get the details and write up the report. "Driver's license please," the officer asks me. From my wallet I pull out my temporary license, a piece of paper. He and the guy I hit could only shake their heads. Thankfully the other driver didn't push for charges so my driving record wasn't hit. Nice way to start a driving career though, eh?
Don't get distracted.
Don't get distracted.
Trail Head
