One second you’re pedaling like a glorious superhero. The next? You’re on the ground, staring at the underside of a Kia. Your brain goes, “Wait, is this a dream?” Spoiler: it’s not. And your bike’s wheel is now shaped like a taco.
Everything goes slow-motion, like a bad action movie your life didn’t ask for. You hear a crunch—was that metal or your ribs? Honestly, you’re too confused to decide.
That Awkward Silence
Then comes the silence. The car stops. The driver gets out, looking at you like you just ruined their day. “Are you okay?” they ask, as if you’re supposed to give a TED Talk on your current bone status. You want to say, “Nah, just rearranging the pavement—thanks for asking.”
But instead, you mumble, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Because admitting you’re not fine is so not cool. Meanwhile, your left ankle is already planning a protest.
