White bicycle and black Mercedes

You know how many times you could have died when you were young--one, two, three, four, five, counting all the way to infinity--and then as you age you begin counting backward until you're back down to one...

...I had one of these times the other day.

Riding my white Trek road bike down Lovejoy St., downtown Portland, top-down, 'indulging the forward feeling' poet William Stafford wrote of, a feeling common to young boys riding two-wheeled vehicles, my front wheel caught the edge of a trolley track, flipping bike and rider into the right rear side-panel of a shiny black Mercedes.

The owner of the Mercedes, a lady, Ms.Sheila Arroni, had just parked her brand new car along Lovejoy at 2nd. Hearing the crash, she opened her door to see a crumpled cyclist at her feet.

To her credit the first thing the young Ms. Arroni said was, "are you alright?" Seeing blood, the second thing she said was, "can I take you to the hospital?"

No, no, I insisted, I haven't used up all my lives, I have three left.