Irony By Kermit Rose I glanced to my left. The black pickup truck coming out of the parking lot of the music store would hit me in about a tenth of a second. This was because I rode my one- speed bicycle on the sidewalk in order to avoid collisions with cars. I had no time left. I could only face forward, and hope I got out of the way in time. The driver must have looked only for traffic from her left. This makes sense. Everyone knows that all traffic is only in the right hand lane. I was the exception to the rule. If the truck had not stopped when it did, it would have hit me on my left side and thrown me across the street or into a passing car. As it was, the truck struck only my left hand knuckles. Since I was holding tightly to my bike's curved handle bars, the momentum went into the handlebars. From the handlebars it went into the front wheel. The wheel turned, and I found myself heading for the street. Instantly, I allowed the bike to fall to my left and slid off the bike, landing on my feet in the street only a foot from the sidewalk edge. Still holding onto the bike's handlebars, I walked it to the sidewalk. I ride one of those old fashioned bikes. They were popular in the 50's, but required fenders then. It has thick balloon type tires, high handlebars so I can sit up and hold on to them, and coaster brakes, but it has no fenders to keep the mud off my back when it rains. How did it happen that I was here, on North Monroe street, about a mile from the center of town, to be almost struck by a black truck? I had been on my way to the small appliance store on 5th Avenue to check if they had repaired my VCR yet. As usual, in my absent minded manner, I had rode my bike about a block past 5th Avenue when I realized my error. I hesitated. Should I go back to the small appliance store, or should I go on to the university? I decided to go back. So, I pushed off and started pedaling. I did not anticipate my being struck by the truck moments later. After I reached the sidewalk with my bike, I turned and looked into the cab of the pickup truck. For a few moments I studied the lady who was driving, and the younger lady in the passengers seat, who was probably the driver's daughter. I could tell that they were very upset. The driver said "I didn't see you! Are you alright?" "Of course. I'm fine; wasn't hurt at all." I wanted them to feel better and to not worry. So I looked carefully at the driver to see how she would respond as I said, "These things happen from time to time. The best we can do is take them as a lesson for next time." She immediately said, "Exactly!" I turned away, perhaps embarrassed that I had underestimated her. I had expected her to take longer to appreciate my statement. I rode away, but stopped after a few moments, looking back to see the truck as it made its turn into the street and vanish in the distance. This lady had made quite an impact on me and I probably would never see her again. * I pondered the irony of it as I gave my bike a shove forward and jumped up on it to continue my journey. I had just now learned to anticipate that drivers do not anticipate bicycles coming from their right. I've learned many lessons in my lifetime the hard way. One of my earliest lessons in life was about cement. * I'm three years old. The workers have just poured a deep slab of cement. I wonder if I can walk on it. This calls for an experiment. I walk onto the freshly poured cement. I'm a little surprised when I begin to sink into it. This is interesting. So, it's not thick enough to hold me up. Can I still walk across it to the other side? I continue wading into the cement. Soon, I'm completely submerged. I did not anticipate this. I still don't feel the danger. I think I can walk across to the other side and then walk out. But, now it's difficult to move, and I'm having to hold my breath. I need to do something. I decide I'd better stick up my hand. My mother answered the knock on the door. "Lady, is this your kid?" She screamed when she saw me covered from head to toe with cement. "Oh my God! What happened." The workman said, "I jerked him out of the cement. Only his hand was visible." * I round the corner of 5th Avenue. It has been several weeks since I had dropped off the VCR at the store. I anticipate that it will not be ready this time either. But Since I pass the store on my way to the university, it’s trivial for me to check anyway. I will be patient if it's not ready. Over the years I've learned the value of patience. One of my first lessons in patience was learned in elementary school. * I'm in third grade. "Hey there squirt. Whatcha doing here. You don't belong here. You're too little." I stare at the big kid. He's not nice. This surprises me. I thought everyone was nice to small kids. I don't say anything. And I don't think I'm too little. Although it’s true that I’m quite small for my age. My mother kept me home for an extra year before letting me go to first grade, claiming I was too small. I'm 9 years old now. Later I complain about the big kid to my older brother who’s in fifth grade. "Don't worry about him. He won't be here next year." This is not the answer I wanted, but it makes sense. I decide to endure the big kid till the end of the year. But I didn't have to wait a year. My parents moved to a different town soon after that. I left the school before the big kid did! * The VCR wasn't ready. This did not bother me. I have had a long time to practice not being upset or angry about things. I first resolved to control my anger when I was nine years old. * I'm sitting in the corner reading a comic book and my five year old sister is pestering me. "Come on, Lucky. Play with me." I don't want to be interrupted. "No! I'm busy reading. Go play somewhere else." She continues to pester me. After a while, I become mad. I get up and approach her. She doesn't know what's coming. I take her left arm, between the wrist and elbow in both my hands and twist it. She screams. Mom comes and yells, "What's going on here? Stop that this instant". "She wouldn't let me read my comic book." Mom's voice is quite loud. "You should never hurt anyone because you are mad." At first I'm surprised. Then I think about what I've done. I have hurt my little sister. And it was because I was mad. How can I avoid hurting her again? The easiest way is to never be mad again. And I mostly kept my vow. I was never mad with her again. This doesn't mean I never got mad at other people. * Since the VCR was not ready, I continue my journey to the university. I'm on the way to the music school. Last week I applied to use their computer lab. When I get permission to use the lab, then I can teach myself by using their music programs. I have striven for self-reliance for a long time. A hurricane fence was probably only one of many things that taught me to be self reliant. * I'm 11 years old. A sign on the steel-spiked fence around the schoolyard bore the name "Hurricane Construction Company". My friend and I discuss why a fence is needed around the school yard. Obviously, it's to keep us kids in the yard. So I decide to test how effective it is. I had never climbed a fence before, but quickly learned the process of supporting my weight on the fence by using my arms to pull myself toward the fence in addition to the necessary pulling upward. I climb to the top easily then pause. Those spikes look dangerous. I must put my leg between the spikes. I swing my leg up and over and down. It does not come down between the spikes. My leg comes down directly on one of the very sharp spikes! Ouch! I felt only a brief sharp pain as the spike brushed the pain nerves just below the skin. The spike is inside the back part of my leg. I'm stuck! I test my position by leaning backwards slightly, while making sure I do not move my leg. I cannot move in any direction. I must not move, or the spike will tear my leg. My arms will soon get tired of holding me in this position. My friend looks on not knowing what to do. I tell him to go get help. He merely stands there, helpless to do anything. After a minute, I realize that I must help myself. I focus my attention on my leg, and tell myself to lift it straight off the spike. I slowly lift my leg. When my leg is off of the spike, I can swing my leg around and climb back down the fence. My friend has vanished. I assume that he has gone to get help. I'm limping for a week after this, but I never tell any grownup, not even my parents, about this misadventure. * I think about my application for the music lab account. I was not automatically permitted because I'm not a music major. So I asked the instructor in my music theory class for an endorsement. Last week he gave me a letter to take to Charlie, the guy responsible for letting me have the account. I anticipate that my grad student instructor doesn't pull enough weight to get me in. But I'm a quite peaceful guy. I simply imagine myself suggesting to Charlie that he ask some of my VIP friends, like Lisa King, first violin in the music school concerts or George Applebee, the dean of the music school. I'm not worried. I'm used to getting my way in a peaceful manner. Why I've been a very peaceful guy almost all my life. * I'm in fifth grade. It's at the end of the school day and I'm walking across the yard to the school bus parking lot. Suddenly I noticed a younger kid and his older brother standing in the shade of some oak trees. The younger brother was pointing to me, and saying "That's him." The older brother got an angry look on his face, and at a deliberate pace walked over to me. I stood my ground, wondering what was going on. When he reached me, he began to hit me. I had no quarrel with him, so at first I did not hit back. After a few blows, I decided I should try to defend myself, and begin hitting back. Fortunately, at that moment, the teacher arrived. I presumed that the kid standing beside the teacher had alerted her to the fight. The teacher separated us. "What's going on here?" I was crying by this time. It wasn't right that I should be picked on because someone made a mistake. "It was a case of mistaken Identity" "What? Why were you fighting?" I repeated, "It was a case of mistaken identity." The teacher frowned. "I don't want to ever see you two fighting again." I nodded, and fighting my tears, continued to the bus stop. * I've arrived at the university. As I cross the street to the music building I wonder why I'm thinking about my recent near accident with the black pickup truck. Then I realize why. It is on this very street where I had a similar bike accident years ago. * It's several year's ago during the 5:00 rush traffic at the end of the workday. I stood on the sidewalk holding my bike, looking across the street, waiting for an opportunity to cross. Finally the way was almost clear. The lane on my side of the street was clear, and the cars on the other side were stopped at the stop sign. At last I can take a chance to cross. It's risky, but I think I can make it. I started to walk my bike across, then started to run with it. As I approached the front of the stopped car in the far lane, I hopped onto my bike, and turned in front of the car and began to coast away from it in the direction the car was pointed. I stood up on my bike to pedal away from the stopped car behind me as quickly as possible. Suddenly I felt a severe jolt on the back wheel in the direction I was going. Then I was standing on the ground, looking at my bike sprawled about three feet in front of me. I looked back at the car that had just knocked my bike out from under me and stopped just short of hitting me. I presumed that the driver had started off very fast from the stop sign, and then immediately stopped when she realized I was in front of her. The driver was of course very upset. I picked up my bike, and walked it over next to the front seat passenger side of the car. I peered in the window and gave her a questioning look. She asked, "Are you alright." "Yes, I'm fine." "You appeared out of nowhere. Are you alright?" "I'm fine. I wasn't hurt at all." "What about your bike?" "My bike is ok. I can still ride it." I could see she was still upset, but couldn't do anything about it. I turned and rode away, but looked back in time to see her start up again and drive away. * I still remember that. So that's why I'm extra careful when crossing this street with the three way stop signs. As I cross the street, I can't help but think about bike accidents that I've had. In most of them I have not been hurt in the least. Only once did I really injure myself in a bike accident. * Usually I ride on the sidewalk because it seems a lot safer. This time I broke my rule. On my way to work there is a steep hill. I thought it would be fun to coast down the hill on my bike. I'm coasting down the steep hill. I'm probably up to about 30 mph, but I don't know for sure. A car passes me on my left. The lady on the passenger's side gives me an intense look. I don't realize it's a warning. Seconds after passing me, the car's driver makes a right turn into his driveway. I'm only a few seconds from impact. I stand on my coaster brakes, but in my panic I probably put force on both pedals, reducing my braking power. My bike begins to slow down, but it's too late to avoid a collision. At the last moment, I decide to let the front tire hit the back fender of the car. I'm looking at the car and the lady in the passenger side of the car as I begin my fall off the bike. I put out my left hand to catch myself. All the force of my fall goes into my left wrist. I don't know at the time that my wrist is completely shattered. I pick myself up, and with my right hand, pick up the bike. I cannot use my left hand at all. The car stopped when I hit it. After I picked myself and my bike up, the driver drove into his driveway. Then they both got out. The lady asked, "Are you ok". I cradled my injured wrist and said, "I'm fine." The lady looked doubtful. "Can we call someone for you?" I did not want to miss work. I could still type with one hand. "No, that's ok. I'll be fine." I then began to walk my bike the rest of the way to work. My wrist did not hurt. I looked at it. It seemed to be out of shape. With my right hand, I took hold of my left hand and pulled gently until it looked more normal. Then I continued my walk to work. * Back to the Present moment. I park my bike and enter the music building. I find Charlie's office. Just as I'm about to enter his office, Lisa King comes out of the room across the hall. Lisa smiles. "Lucky, what are you doing here?" I return her smile. I gestured toward Charlie's office. "Last week I applied to use the computer lab, and I'm checking to see if it was approved." I thought maybe that Charlie could overhear us. It would be perfect if he did. Lisa said, "They'd better approve it. It should be automatic for you!" I smiled. "Thank you." As Lisa turned away and went on her way, I walked into Charlie's office. I saw the endorsement letter from my instructor on the corner of his desk. I go over and stand adjacent to his desk, and point to the letter. Charlie looks at me. "This is ok since Lisa knows you. And of course, around here, Lisa is King."