Happened this Tuesday.
Just back into the estate after a 50 mile bike ride, I decided to do a circuit as a warm down, and to ensure that I'd hit the magic 50. Four hundred yards from home someone in a silver car pulled straight out of a side road. The white lines indicated that it was my right of way, but apparently this only applies on Thursdays, and if you're not driving a silver car.

Option 1: be hit.

Option 2: swerve into the junction to avoid being hit.

Being a sensible sort of chap I chose option 2. Fate, and a large patch of gravel intervened, along with the oncoming kerb, depositing me in a tall leylandii hedge, head first. Unfortunately there was a street sign, on concrete bollards, in the way.

I hit the sign mighty hard, chest first, before being thrown into the hedge and being deposited back on the pavement, all of the wind being knocked out of me. I lay there desperately trying to catch my breath, wondering what the hell had happened, and who had hit me so hard. My shirt and vest were torn to shreds, there was rather a lot of blood seeping hither and thither, and my bike was arranged around me.

Three days on my entire right side is now in what I like to term its Richie Blackmore phase - every shade from Deep Purple to Rainbow, the cuts have stopped weeping, and the aching subsiding. When I went to the doctor her diagnosis was "That looks a mess" and told to take ibuprofen.

When I consider what might have happened I shudder slightly.

The car driver? Didn't stop at all.

Heigh ho!
( The Lone Groover has mal des nuts., Fri 5 Jul 2013, 15:21, 4 replies)

I bet you don't even pay road tax.

( drimble he'd been white, he'd been black, Fri 5 Jul 2013, 15:30, closed)

Hunt them down and kill them.
It's the only way they'll learn.
( monster munch person, man, woman... camera... TV?, Fri 5 Jul 2013, 15:42, closed)

I would have stopped
If I wasn't pissed up.
( edjogs Collared doves are shit., Fri 5 Jul 2013, 22:29, closed)

Spend a few days
waiting at that junction for him to arrive there again. Assuming he stops (due to a car rather than an invisible cycle), tap politely on his window and when he winds it down, politely twat him in the gob.
(Colonel Blink is now officially a pretentious prick, Sun 7 Jul 2013, 21:50, closed)