Warp <war### [at] tagpovrayorg> wrote:
>   I hate to sound like a jerk here, but if I had been in the situation and
> seen the license plate, I would have used whatever means I could ever imagine
> to memorize it.

I (think I) know you well enough to know that you really do hate sounding like a
jerk :)

Anyway, if you had been in the situation, you would probably be as shook up as I
was at the time.

Here's a more detailed account of what happened:
I was riding on the left-hand shoulder of a busy two-lane road.  I know, you're
supposed to ride on the right, and I do most of the time.  This is one of the
times I didn't, mostly because I was going to turn left soon and, this being a
busy road, I had crossed when a good opportunity presented itself.  If you put
off crossing until you have to, then you tend to wait quite a while.

I approached the intersection, and saw that I had a green light, with cars
stopped at the intersecting road waiting for their light to turn green.

I started across the intersection, and the woman who was stopped tried to take a
"free" right turn without checking if anyone was coming from my direction.  She
was watching oncoming traffic, which came from the left.  Even so, she should
have checked if anyone was crossing from the other side before she hit the gas.

She looked up in time to see me thrown from my bike, and hit the brakes.  I
picked myself up almost immediately, cursing at her, and pacing back and forth
because my legs hurt like a b*tch.

She asked if I was OK, and I said I thought I was just bruised.  I apologized
for cursing, saying it was just because my legs hurt.  She started babbling
about being sorry, and how she was late for work, etc.  I picked up my bike,
and carried it out of the street.  When I looked back at the street, the lady
was gone - she must have taken off when I was carrying my bike out of the road.

Since my legs hurt, I pulled up my pant legs, and noticed that I hard a large
gash in one leg.  It looked  bad enough for stitches, so I called emergency.  A
fire truck and a police car showed up.  The firemen wrapped my leg, and told me
to get it stitched (though it wasn't urgent enough to go to a hospital if I
didn't want to).  Since my bike was busted, I chained it to a lightpole, and
the cop gave me a ride to my physician's office, where I got 7 stitches (2
internal, 5 external).

All in all, it's not how I would have preferred to start my Monday.

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