Yesterday after work Minor, Jacque and I went for a run up the Bothell-Everett Hwy. Just over a mile into it, we hear this terrible sound. As we look across the rush hour traffic, we realize there's a cyclist laying in the road. He was face down on the asphalt, his ride arm and shoulder contorted to a terrible angle. Minor wouldn't even look at it- but I couldn't look away.
We stood there on the opposite side of the road, unsure of what to do as people started to get out of their cars and figure out what happened. From what we could tell, some kid in a Camry turned right into a gas station right in from of the commuter cyclist and took him out right there in the bike lane. I don't know how this kid didn't see the guy- he was wearing a bright yellow jacket. And not yellow like the Morton salt girl's rain slicker, that kind of neon yellow that almost hurts your eyes to see it. Looking at the cyclist's legs, he was in great shape and most likely very familiar with riding in traffic.
Anyway, it was completely horrifying for me. The image kept running over and over in my head last night, and then again during work today. I've never actually seen a crash, just pictures of the aftermath.
ugh.
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