my accident

September 3, 2002. Queen St. West. Toronto Ontario. 7:15pm.It was a nearly perfect day. The sun was shining brightly and it was not too hot. I had just gotten back on my bike after tearing my hamstring in a workplace accident. I had been going to physiotherapy attempting to rehab the injury as fast as possible. I loved my job and was very excited to get back to work. I had a doctor appointment the next morning to confirm that I was ready to go back to work.
Grahame, my physiotherapist recommended that I get back on a bike. I had initially used the bike as a crutch because it hurt to move my leg enough to spin the pedals. Eventually I got in the saddle and began pedaling my way back to health. To Celebrate my impending return to work, I had got two tickets to see Kid Rock, Aerosmith and Run DMC in concert. I was a little behind schedule because the cars were beginning to park along the side of the road. The cars are only allowed to park on Queen St after 7pm and the concert started at 8. I had to get to the beach and back down to Ontario Place on the Lakeshore in an hour. My buddy Pete had strong legs and we would be able to cook it down to the show in no time.

I was heading Eastbound between the parked cars and the fast moving traffic. There was a very cute girl in front of me, but she was riding a road bike and in spandex. Well... The spandex was alright. and she was hot... My attention went from this beautiful woman to the sound of a car humming along beside me. The car was not a regular car off the lot. You could hear that the kid in the driver's seat had put a lot of money into the car. The car didn't sound like the regular tinny hum of a regular four cylinder engine. It had the hum of a finely tuned rocket. You could hear that the engine was begging to be revved high to get the maximum performance available. The wing on the back was made from Carbon Fiber, So was the hood. The paint was custom with green metal flakes. It was a beautiful car. The rubber on the 19" rims was about the thickness of my thumb. The driver hit the gas and the engine roared as the car moved forward.

I was thoroughly enjoying my life. I was 25 years young. I had an amazing job and made more money than my parents did. I had a car and a beautiful girlfriend. I figured that this was exactly the way my life was going to be lived. I lived in a city I loved. I got to spend my winters in Mexico. I worked my dream job during the times of day that it was too hot to ride my bike. The puzzle pieces of my life were falling into place exactly as I had wanted them to and had planned since I was a young boy. I could see the young man inside the car answer his cell phone. I shook my head and looked back up at traffic.

The beautiful girl in spandex and on the road bike was pretty far ahead. I could clip along pretty fast on my 26" wheels, but there was no way I could keep up with her on the 700cc wheels. Her beautiful shape was moving off in the distance. I heard the engine of the Honda Civic roar beside me again and the green paint was sparkling in my peripheral vision. Then it was not in my peripheral vision.

The wind was keeping the hair out of my face. The sweat on my forehead was keeping me cool. The green sparkle of the Honda Civic got a little bit closer to the parked cars. I blinked my eyes and then there was no space for me to go. In the blink of an eye the space between the Honda Civic and the parked car went from nearly two metres to less than 30 centimeters. I remember the car getting close, and attempting to throw my hips behind the seat in an emergency stop. Then everything went black for a split second.

What happened next is sort of blurry. I remember the smell of the asphalt and a slight stinging in my back. There was no helmet on my head anymore. As my eyes regained focus, I could see nothing but blood and pavement. I attemtped to move but coudl not. I looked up and my neck screamed in pain. My eyes struggled to focus. I could see the green metal flake paint. and the license plate number. As the car sped off, I wrote down the license plate number in my own blood on the pavement. I knew that one moment of clarity would probably save my life from a hit and run. Feeling a little more secure, I began to stand up.

As I got to my knees, everythign started to sink in. I was just hit by a car. I didn't know if five seconds five minutes or five years had gone by. i did not know if all my fingers and toes were there. I barely knew my own name. I had to think about it. I had to think about where I was. When I got to my feet, a girl on the street screamed. I looked at her and she was as pale as a ghost. She could not take her eyes from my shoulder. I looked to where her eyes were trained and I was not ready fro what I saw.

My shoulder looked like a beach ball. It was purple and yellow and black and green. I could not feel anything from my hips to my neck. I stared at my shoulder and I could hear more people screaming. My shoulder was not exactly where it was supposed to be. I could feel pressure building in my shoulder, but I could not feel the pain and that was worrying me. I could feel something brush the side of my knee. I looked down and nearly fainted again. My hand was on backwards... My elbow was facing forward... and my shoulder was half way down my ribcage.

I have no idea how I did it, but I set my shoulder back in spot. One of the girls from Club Monaco called Emergency Services. There is a fire department closer to where my accident happened than anythign else. So the Fire departmetn showed up first.

I was completely in shock at this point and my memory is not so good. I remember the police officer was saying it was my fault. I remember the Streetcar driver getting out and telling the police that it was the driver's fault. The officer was a nice guy, and he was only doing his job. I understand that jobs are frustrating, but the officer was very rude and biased against cyclists. He did not listen to what I said and wrote down what he wanted to.

within the next few minutes I needed to use the bathroom. I was on my way to see Kid Rock. I had a bunch of joints in my pocket and needed to ditch them. I knew that they wouldn't deny me use of the washroom if I got hit by a car in front of the building. So I flushed my pot and went back out into the street to get in the ambulance and to the hospital.

When I got to the hospital, my head was a mess. I was trying to keep my wits about me because of Shock and morphine. I was having a hard time focusing one the doctors and the police officer. I went to x ray.

X Rays comfirmed the seriousness of my injuries. I had dislocated my arm. I had seperated my Collar Bone and seperated my shoulder blade. Morphine helped keep the pain at bay. Because there was such a masssive impact on my body, my entire torso was lighted by various colours of bruise and the doctors were afraid that I had internal injuries. Three nights in the hospital.

I was 25 years old. I went from making $50,000 a year and bench pressing 300 pounds... to broke, no job, and I couldnt' wipe my own ass or lift a fork to my lips. If not for supportive people and incredible friends, I don't know how I would have survived. When I went to pick up my bike from the police, I couldn't believe that I had survived. The front wheel was a taco, the chro mo frame was cracked. Everything was destroyed.

I had no income. I had no chances of employment. I was a bricklayer and that's all I ever wanted to do besides ride my bike. I felt like I was at rock bottom. I felt like I would not get back on a bike but my cuzzin Jay made me ride again. I was afraid out of my mind and crying furiously in a sling and shoulder immobilization stap. I was 25 years old and crying like a baby in the middle of Toronto traffic. My problem was that I could no longer afford my car, my loft, my lifestyle... and eventually I could not afford to feed myself.

So I moved back home to my mother. I moved back home to my family. For the next year the only times I moved the arm was under the supervision of a physiotherapist. I'm one of the luckiest people ever because my physiotherapist also lives across the street from my mom. He and his mentor are cycling advocates. They encouraged me to get back on a bike and to never stop spinning the pedals.

After 9 months of Phsyio, accupunture, steroid therapy, magentic therapy, reiki, and any other wholistic method I coudl find, I gave in and had teh surgery. After another six months I had another surgery. I have one long scar and a few round scars. They removed about 5cm of my collar bone. I have limited range of motion and I have limited strenght in my right arm.

The accident had an immediate and devastating impact on my career as a bricklayer/stonemason. I am not going to ever be strong enough to do that full time again, but I am still able to ride a bike. I don't do massive hucks or extreme freeriding.. but I do have fun and that's all I care about.

There is a lawsuit pending and it's nearly 6 years later. I went from working $50,000 a year to less than $20,000. I went from a 300 pound bench press to a mere 100. And it hurts like hell every day. When I wake up I get about four or five seconds of what seems like pain free living. And then I move.

You know that numb tingly painful feeling you get when you throw a baseball too much? That's my life 24/7/365. It never goes away. It never stops. And neither will I.
I will continue to ride a bike until the day I die. I ride my bike every day of the year. If it's colder than -20, I will be in my basement on a trainer. Nothing will ever get in between me and my love of spinning pedals.