Second thoughts

I was never averse to a little excitement in life, as long as I could control the risk. So I would climb a 300-foot cliff, but not without a rope for protection. And I’d draw the line at completely reckless behaviour, like skydiving, bungee jumping and investing in Canadian tech companies (OK, only once). Where does cycling on Montreal streets fit in? I thought I knew.

Then two separate incidents occurred that left me re-examining the survival odds when cycling to and from work: I crashed my bike, and my daughter’s friend was the recipient of what cyclists call a “door prize.” A door on a parked car suddenly swung open in front of him, and he flew off his bike and broke an elbow and a knee. He required two surgeries and more than a week in hospital, and even longer in a rehab centre.

My own crash was minor by comparison. I was rounding the corner from Fort to Ste-Catherine St., when I rode over a large steel plate that was slick from rain. In one nanosecond, my bike slid out from under me and I lifted my face off the pavement. I experienced nothing in between — no falling, no head hitting the street. It all happened too fast for my disoriented brain to record.

If I had lost my footing on a cliff, I could have grabbed the rope. But for me and my daughter’s friend, the parachute failed and bungee cord snapped. There was nothing we could do.