The site of my accident — Bathurst and Fleet Streets — has been haunting me since July 3rd. I was heading east on Fleet and making a left-hand turn to go north on Bathurst, when a huge piece of styrofoam appeared in front of me and took my bike down. Since that night, I've passed by the scene but always in a cab and it was with a sense of detachment.
This past Thursday, though, I was there on my scooter. Like two months earlier, the details were eerily the same: it was nighttime, I was the first one to turn left at the red light, and there was a car wanting to turn right to go north on Bathurst, and it saw me, too. The only difference was there were two cars stuck in the intersection, so I had the added anxiety of having to wiggle around them and then swing wide to get out of the snarl of streetcar tracks.
Sweaty palms. Heart was going a bit faster than usual. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta get on with it.
I went behind the two cars, dropped my speed so the right-turner could go on ahead, and then accelerated a bit to slide in behind. And as I was doing so, I could almost see this 3' by 3' piece of styrofoam in the road, and the memory of my bike fishtailing wildly before sliding away on the ground, throwing up sparks while I lay on my left side in pain, was incredibly vivid.
I knew there wouldn't be another accident at this scene again (maybe there'll be another one in the future, but odds are it'd be in a different spot), but it didn't take my fears and anxieties away. But as much as I didn't want to return to that area again on my scooter, I knew I couldn't avoid it forever or it'd permanently affect me. I'd then be the rider who avoids certain spots out of fear, instead of the confident rider who has the skills and toughness to conquer anything.
Feeling pretty proud of myself, I continued to ride north on Bathurst...and almost got hit two different times. The first time, I was at Bathurst and King in the right lane, with a sporty blue car on my tail. He was hugging the curb so close, I thought he wanted to make a right so I moved my bike up — and then he roared past me with about half a foot of room to spare. Asshole. The second one was a cabbie going south on Bathurst making a left turn, and he completely didn't see me. Just starting making his turn and forced me to squirt right a bit to avoid him. Asshole.
The most ironic part?
I was riding home from the classroom portion of a motorcycle safety course.
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