My riding days are over

March 12, 2022

Until today, I had never ridden in an ambulance, nor tried to walk with a fractured leg. They’re now off my bucket list, as is the experience of getting broadsided on my scooter. Not to worry; I’m home resting with a fiberglass splint, a prescription for painkillers, and two fractures of my right fibula. Had the driver been going faster than 15 MPH, it may have been worse.

We were at a four-way stop. My turn came after the car to my right proceeded. As I entered the intersection, the truck to my right pulled to a stop, then began to enter the intersection. I continued, thinking he would see me, and concerned that I might not stop before striking him.

Soon, it was apparent he didn’t see me, and all I could do was wait. It was rather disconcerting.

He apologized, and I could tell he was really upset. He said he didn’t see me, which is oddly too common a statement people utter after incidents with motorcycles. A witness incredulously asked how that could be, and others were telling me to stay down, as if doing otherwise was an option.

First responders were there in a couple of minutes, as was Anne, whom I called after confirming I could move my legs. She was on her way to retrieve eggs, which she’ll be cooking for herself for the foreseeable future; the orthopedist told me to not bear weight on my right leg for three months. I should have an appointment with him this week and will know more then.

This was a minor accident, I don’t want to know what a more severe accident would feel like. When I told my sister what happened, she noted it was not my first scooter accident; I told her it is likely my last.