Chapter 2 Part 1 Chapter 1

Week after week, month after month, I walked the streets of London knowing that one day I would have an accident.The only question is: what kind of accident?There was once a bicycle courier who was driving at high speed on Regent Street when a taxi rushed out and made a 180-degree turn without looking at the road.At least the other party didn't pay attention to the bicycle, because no one would pay attention to the bicycle.In short, the courier crashed head-on into the body of the taxi, and after waking up in the hospital, no one even remembered his last name. Our group of bike couriers would meet up on Friday nights at a bar called the Horse and Jockey, where we would drink and chat and joke about crashes.But every few months, bad news comes.The most recent one happened near the Elephant Fort subway station.The courier was driving alongside a truck, but the truck made a sharp left turn without turning on its lights.The distance between the truck and the curb instantly shrank from one meter to less than ten centimeters.The only thing to do at this time is to get off that road as soon as possible.But even if it were to be done, there would be iron bars blocking the way.Later, when I was passing by here, I saw bunches of flowers that had been taped on the railing.

Accidents happen, sometimes it's the cyclist's fault, sometimes it's not.I've heard stories of bus drivers hitting cyclists on purpose, and I've seen many cyclists who think traffic lights don't work for them.But no matter who is right or wrong, the one sitting on the bicycle is always the loser.That's why cyclists should wear hard hats, stay out of vans, and always think of driving as a blind, imbecile neuropathy. Still, I knew that one day an accident would happen to me.There are all kinds of strange accidents in this world, and I think the ones that are most likely to happen will be the ones that cannot be prevented or prevented in advance.Facts have proved that my prediction is true, but I never expected that the accident would happen less than 30 meters away from my home.I was turning onto Maitland Road and was about to step off the frame beam.In just forty-five seconds, I can enjoy a hot shower, and even imagine that I have been sitting in the seat for six hours and I have already got out of the car and entered the door.However, it was too late to say it, and it was so fast, a car door opened in front of me like the wings of a metal bird, and I just slammed into it.

I didn't have time to react, it was too late to turn or protect myself.The whole incident was played in slow motion.The moment the bike hit the door, I could almost see the whole thing: instead of closing the door, I pushed it wider.I heard the door squeak, buckle, and then never move as the kinetic energy was transferred from the door to the bike, especially the most moving part of the bike, which was me.My double scripts came to rest in the pedals, and if they stayed tight, I would get stuck on the bike and probably end up breaking my legs.But in the moment, as if responding to me, my feet parted, like two peas popping out of their pods; anyway, I flew through the door and left the bike behind.

The accident came too fast, and I couldn't defend myself or avoid obstacles when I landed.However, the accident came too slowly, and while it happened, I could still think about its process.I have thousands of thoughts in my head, but I'm not sure if they come one by one or all at once.I thought to myself: I had an accident, so this is what it feels like to have an accident.I thought to myself: I'm going to get hurt, maybe very badly.I thought: I have to find someone to replace me.Looks like I won't be able to schedule a shift tomorrow.I have to call Campbell and let him know.Maybe someone else will have to make this call for me.Then I thought: Too bad, the roommates have a rare chance to sit down for dinner tonight, and now it looks like I won't be able to.And I actually thought: I fell on the ground, I don't know what kind of virtue it looks like?

At this moment, I hit the ground, like an acrobat with shriveled feet facing upwards, and landed heavily on my back. I couldn't breathe immediately, and could only make a whimper.I rolled a few laps on the ground and felt several parts of my body hit and scrape the ground.I heard my body slam into the asphalt, and at first felt no pain, but saw a flash of light before my eyes.But I knew the pain was about to break out, and sure enough, it became the core of everything in a blink of an eye, launching wave after wave of attacks on me; red light, purple light, and bright yellow light vibrated in my eyes, and each vibration was a kind of pain. different pain.I try to move my body.After all, I am in the middle of the road, the road is like a tiger's mouth, and the truck may run over me.But it's okay, I can't move anyway.The only thing I can do is keep swearing: damn it.Damn.Oh shit.Damn.

The pain began to gradually focus.This feeling is like after a rain, many puddles and small rivers gradually gather.I was dizzy, but thankfully the hard hat protected my head.I had no feeling in my upper back when I landed, but the rest of the pain was excruciating pain in the sides of my elbows and knees, as well as a hand bent backward.I touched my thigh with my other hand, and it was wet and sticky, with bits of gravel on it.A small part of my mind still has time to think: there are enough stupid ones.If there were no accidents, I would be in the house and everything would be as usual.But now I'm on the road and have to deal with this shit, and I wish I could stay out of it.

I lay back, and the asphalt felt hot against my back, and I could even smell its greasy, pungent smell.I look at the faded blue sky, the sun low like the yolk of an egg. A shadow came to me, covered the sky, and asked me at the same time: Are you okay? No, I said, damn it. I'm so sorry, I opened the car door but didn't see you.I should pay attention to the car coming.I'm so sorry.Are you hurt?Do I need to call an ambulance? Another wave of pain hit me.Don't bother me.I said. I'm so sorry. I took a deep breath, the pain subsided slightly, and the outline of the figure gradually became clear.I saw a middle-aged woman with a vaguely familiar face, and saw the door of her silver car buckled outward by the impact.I took another deep breath and tried to say something that wasn't whimpering or swearing.You should really watch out for incoming cars.

I am really sorry. I was about to ask her to go again, but I felt nauseous, and I had to use all my energy to stop myself from making a fool of myself in the street. I have to go home quickly.It was only a few meters away, but like an animal that had to crawl back into the hole and prepare to die, I turned over with a groan and tried to prop myself up.Although the pain was unbearable, in a blur, I found that my limbs could still listen to me.It doesn't look like a serious injury, at least the tendons are not strained. Estelle! I heard a familiar voice, and a familiar name.That's my name.Here's another good news.I also know who I am.I looked up and saw a familiar face looking down at me sadly.Then, another face came into focus behind the first man: both faces stared at me with the same expression.

What happened?one of them asked. I was stupidly and inexplicably embarrassed. Davy, I say, Dalio.I just fell off my bike.Nothing.I just I opened the door, the woman said, and she hit me head-on.This is all my fault.Do I need to call an ambulance? Is my bike okay?I asked. Forget about the bike, David said, bending over to me, his face wrinkled in concern, are you all right? I sat on the road with my jaw twitched, my tongue touching my teeth. It should be all right, I said, a little taken aback.I stood up timidly. Estelle? Is my bike okay? Dalio walked around to the other side of the door and straightened the bike.A little out of shape.He said.He tried to push it over, but the front wheel jammed.

It looks as bad as I want to say it looks, but I just don't have the energy to say it.So I just said I wanted to go into the house.The woman asked again if I wanted to call an ambulance and I shook my head and groaned because my neck hurt. I will pay for the bike.the woman said. Yes, you should pay for it. I live nearby.I will come and visit you.Is there anything else I can do? I wanted to say something mean, like you've done enough, but it's just too much effort to talk, and anyway, she looked distressed, not defensive like some people are.I looked back to see her trying to close the offending car door, and it didn't close until the second time.Dalio picked up my bicycle, and Dawei carefully hugged me with one hand and helped me to the door.Dalio seemed to be nodding to someone.

Where is who?I asked. Nobody, he said, is your head all right? I rubbed my temples cautiously.It feels a little weird. We're sitting right on the front steps, Dalio said, puffing and enjoying the evening, Davy, don't you? Yes, Davy said, and then there was a sudden bang and you fell to the ground. There are enough stupid ones.I said. Are you okay?Walk a few more meters and you will be home. OK.Although my legs were trembling, and the door seemed to move back a lot, I still tried to be brave with my words.Davey called out to Miles, and then Dalio yelled louder, and the deafening sound echoed in my skull, making me wince.Davey helped me through the door, and Miles emerged at the top of the stairs.When he saw me, the expression on his face was almost comical.What the hell happened?he asked. The car door hit.David said. Roommates quickly gathered around me.David tried to hang the bicycle on the hook on the corridor wall; but it was damaged and deformed, so it didn't fit well.He took the bike off again and started fiddling around, getting grease stains all over the front of his lovely white shirt.It needs a serious repair.He said it with pleasure. Pipa went downstairs and said to Dawei in a rough voice that I should be inspected, not the bicycle.She gave me a light hug, barely touching me.Mike looked down at me from the upstairs railing without emotion. Do something to save her, Miles said, and lead her downstairs. I'm fine.I said. They insisted, so I was half-helped and half-dragged to the huge kitchen and dining room downstairs, where we usually eat, chat, and hang out as long as we are not in our respective rooms.I was put on the couch near the door, and Dalio, Pipa, and Miles all sat and stared at me and kept asking me how I was feeling.Now my mind is clear.The shock of the accident had now turned into mere pain.I know it's going to hurt like hell the next morning, but it's not going to be a big deal.Dalio took a cigarette from the cigarette case in his pocket and lit it. We should cut her clothes open, he said, like paramedics do with accident victims in the emergency room. You are dreaming.I said. Do you need to see a doctor?Miles asked. I need a hot shower. For those wounds, Dalio said, taking a hot bath might be difficult.