"there was an accident, bikes were everywhere, then a helicopter..."

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She is only 18, so perhaps the drivers' words are enigmatic, seem lost in the fog of a greater light. Perhaps the news of this accident on a roadway in Germany hasn't affected the world like a bombing during a spectacular 'phrase-ful' day in another part of the world. Perhaps the grief is less indelible to the lens of public sympathy. Perhaps it doesn't matter to those who lament this tragedy how much airtime either of these senseless departures have recieved... perhaps, this questioning is also a way of dousing my own sadness, my unquivering fears.

Riding a bicycle -- on any roadway -- is a dangerous, defenseless pursuit, is putting the body at the mercy of society's good judgement, behaviour. Every cyclist has had close calls, inches to spare, whooshes that graze the ear... every cyclist has heard the sardonic jeers, "get your own effin' road", they'll shout, or perhaps when trying for something more clever we have yet to hear, they'll say, "nice pants lance..." and then speed away. Speeding away... "you..." not like me to be so derelict the "I" arrives here now, me cruising alone, along the slipstream of a country road, the sun behind me, the heat within, and the wind coming from the back and a little to the right... I'm nearing my home, (la maison), crawling a slight, blind hill towards the main highway... could it happen to me? A newly ordained "driver" losing control? A minivan, three kids in the rear seat distracting "my guardian angel"? A man towing a boat? Another pickup squealing its tires, the horse trailer jackknifed into a slide on the edge of the pavement, me jumping onto the soft shoulder, barely able to kick-out, stay upright, barely able to keep my heart beating below its max... the all-of-a-sudden thought that luckily passes! yes the schoolbus slowed to see if all was right, but the driver of that black pick-up barely slowed beyond the skid, he sped around the sloped corner, wheels grinding with every rev, he made a quick right turn at the next stoplight, it was red and barely acknowledged.

It happened like that, the same day the AIS Womens Cycling Team was taken out, swept into a ditch with one foul swipe... BUT me, I'm still upright, signalling a woman through yellow open doors, her hands carrying the shifting weight of a bus full of kids, I signal her to carry onward, to go, I'm okay... ready for the road again, the heartfelt finale. I ride to the same set of stoplights, turn left, feel the wind at my side and the last hill before home burning my empty legs.