The crunch of metal against my flesh and bones was sickening, a long-dreaded fear finally coming true in the rain-slicked streets of Vancouver. My helmeted noggin smacked against something hard. My leg got wedged as the rest of my body whipped forward like a rag doll. It had assuredly happened: after 20 years of being a daily city cyclist in downtown Vancouver, I had finally won a “door prize”.
“Door prize: when a motorist opens a car door into the path of your oncoming bicycle, a collision in which the door is virtually always the victor”. (Urban Dictionary)
It was a wet, dark, dangerous December night on Hamilton Street, right outside my place of work. Hamilton is a narrow street that gets backed up at rush hour, but I had cycled it thousands of times. I was only a block away from the separated bike lanes I ride home on. I had both a front flashing white light, a rear flashing red light, and a reflective sash. None of that mattered. As I tried to thread the needle between the parked cars and a long line of idling cars waiting for the light to turn green… SMACKDOWN.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” I screamed, instinctively clutching both brakes as my bike made instant contact with the suddenly wide-open driver’s side door. After flopping forward, I fell sideways, away from the parked car, into traffic. While still mounted on my bike, my head whacked the side of a Canada Post truck that was crawling towards the stoplight. The next thing I remember, my bike was on the ground, but I was still on my feet. I felt woozy and my left leg hurt.
“Door prize: in accidents like this, the driver (or person opening the car door) is usually held at fault. When a parked car opens their door into a travel lane, they are obstructing traffic. If another car or bicycle hits it, the owner of the parked car is liable and responsible for damages because the oncoming vehicle has the right of way.” (Andres and Berger, attorneys at law).
The owner of the car was standing beside me. He was, to his credit, instantly apologetic. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you!”
Though I was dazed and confused, I felt my Scottish temper welling up inside of me. “You didn’t see me? You didn’t see my blinding, flashing, strobe light in your side mirror? Did you even bother to check? You could have killed me!”
Once my adrenalin cooled, besides a bruised thigh, I realized that, miraculously, I wasn’t hurt. My bike was undamaged. It didn’t stop me from yelling at the parked offender a little more, for which, upon reflection, I feel badly about. Wherever you are, I apologize. But hey, it could have been a lot worse. I could have been a lot worse.
Upon even further reflection, I have a few more acknowledgements to make in the lucky aftermath of my first door prize: thank you to my helmet for doing its job, thank you to the City of Vancouver for our designated bike lanes (let’s have more of them… statistically, those bike lanes drastically reduce accidents); and finally, thank YOU for carefully checking your side mirror every time before you open your car door.
• Follow Grant Lawrence on Twitter at @GrantLawrence.
