My Bicycle Accident

In my teenage years one of the few things that I loved doing was riding my bicycle. During the summer, fall and spring I took advantage of every opportunity to ride my bike. During the week, I would go riding right after school and on weekends sometime in the morning. I would usually rid for about one to two hours.

In Iran, weekend is only one day and that day is Friday. Friday is the day that people don't work and schools are closed. So, normally, people work six days a week and kids go to school six days a week. The normal work day for most people is six hours instead of eight.

When I was 15 years old, one Friday morning in early October, I decided to go for a bike ride. On that day we had about ten people coming to our house for lunch, close friends and family that my parents spent a lot of time with. Lunch was supposed to be at 1:00 and I was supposed to be home at about 12:00 to help my mother. I left at about 10:30. My house was on a street that led to the mountains, so it was very busy on Fridays, since a lot of people would go to the mountains taking that road. I started riding my bike towards the mountains. My ride wasn't as much fun, because of the excessive traffic of that day. I had to be more careful than usual. I rode for about one hour.

On the way back, near my house, I had to cross the street. The road was a four-lane road, two-lanes going west and two-lanes going east. There was a lot of traffic and no stoplights. As I was riding, I kept looking back to see if I could find a gap in the four lane traffic to cross the street. But the traffic was very dense and cars were driving fast. After a while, I realized that the traffic wasn’t going to let up and I had to be quick and make my move. I looked behind me again and I saw a cab approaching, but I thought if I’m quick enough I can cross the street. I made my move as quickly as I, possibly, could and proceeded to cross the street. As I turned, I saw the cab getting really close to me, my heart dropped, it was too late to turn back or to stop. Less than a moment later, I was hit by the cab. I remember flying in the air; I saw the roof of the cab. I remember thinking how light I felt. My next thought was that I’m going to hit the ground and I may not be a whole person or even alive after that. Within a second I hit the ground. I felt this incredible pain on my left side, the side that got hit. But within a couple of seconds, I realized that I wasn’t seriously injured. I had a lot of pain, but could move my arms and legs. I was on the ground face down and could hear the crowd gathering around me. I could hear people describing what happened to each other and wondering if I was OK. I remember thinking “I wish I was dead.” I did not want to face the crowd around me. The accident was my fault and I felt humiliated. I did not want to face my parents especially my mom who only a week before after I had gotten home too late from my bike ride and had gotten her all worried, had told me “one more irresponsible act and I will take your bike away from you.” I didn’t even care about the pain. I remained on the ground move less not wanting to face the situation quite yet. At that point, my neighbor’s younger brother, who had a crush on me, came to me, called my name and asked me if I was Ok. He helped me get up and made sure that I could stand up on my own. At that moment, I saw the cab driver who had just jumped out of his car approach me with a horrified expression on his face. He looked like he was going to cry. I, immediately, told him I was OK and apologized for causing the accident. He asked if I wanted him to stay around and I assured him that there was no need. He got into his cab and drove away as soon as he, possibly, could. My neighbor’s brother picked up my bike, straightened the wheels and very gently helped me cross the street with my bike. He kept asking me if I was fine. More than anything, I felt humiliated and embarrassed. He walked me to the front door. I went in and thanked him for his help.

Once I was in the house, I was determined not to let anybody know what had just happened. I, quietly, went to my bedroom and just laid on the floor. I was unable to move. I was hurting so much and felt so exhausted. I was wondering how I was going to join my family and friends for lunch and how I could hide the fact that I had a hard time walking. After about thirty minutes, I gained a little bit of strength. I knew I had to get up and join the group. With difficulty, I went upstairs. My mother who was busy with food preparation saw me for a second and complained that I didn’t get back early enough to be of help to her. I made up an excuse and proceeded to set the table for lunch. We had lunch and after that I helped clean up and went on with the rest of my day trying to stay out of sight and rest while I could. No one found out about the accident. I remember the next day at school while sitting in the class and hurting, I wondered how soon I could ride my bike again.

Two days later, as soon as my family and I sat around the dinning room table for lunch, my dad said: “Soheila, one of the neighbors just approached me as I was walking into the house and asked how you were doing. I said: "she is fine, why?" and he said: “Oh, the accident! It was so terrible. She is lucky to be alive. You need to sacrifice a lamb in thanksgiving, since she survived the accident unharmed.”” Sacrificing a lamb is a Middle Eastern tradition done to express gratitude. The meat of the lamb is supposed to be distributed among the poor in response to a bounty received from God. My dad went on to talk more about what the neighbor had said. I cut him off and said: “it really wasn’t that big of a deal. The cab hardly hit me.” And very quickly, I changed the subject. I remember my dad looking at me with wonderment wanting to talk more about the accident and my mom looking at me curiously. But I was determined not to have that conversation and moved to a different topic discrediting my neighbor’s account of the accident. After a couple of minutes my parents moved on and I felt relived. I really just didn’t want to lose my bike. That was all that I was concerned with. The topic was never brought up again and I was, actually, surprised that my parents didn’t pursue the subject any further.

After that accident, I became a more careful cyclist. The memories of biking in my teenage years are some of the best memories of my life. One of the things that was hard for me to say goodbye to when I was leaving Iran was my bike. I actually caressed it and tearfully said goodbye to it on the day that I was leaving. It was my best friend. It gave me an outlet and provided a great escape for me from the things that I didn’t like in my life.