I wasn't hurt too bad. I'd lost a bit of skin off my foot and had an elegantly bruised big toe, but was mostly unscaved. Unfortunately, the front wheel of the bike was crushed under the car, and both my rear view mirrors shattered on impact. Fortunately, I was wearing a helmet and my iphone was safely burried in my front mounted basket - which acted like a roll cage, preventing any damage to it at all.
I remember sitting on the curb, in shock, trying to figure out if my bike was still ridable. And then looking at dark clouds and listening to the thunder and then flicking through my iphone contacts trying to think of who to call. I felt a little hopeless.
Even mum couldn't help.
An hour before the crash I was cycling along the Singapore river toward the marina where I stumbled across a field of lovers. literally hundreds of lovers, lying in the grass, hand in hand.
Most of them looked like blue-collar foreign workers. It was a fine Sunday at that point, and no one could have predicted how drastically the weather would turn.
I sat there waiting for the rain, which came, and then Marc's SUV pulls up with Sarah riding shotgun, and then we dismantled the front tire and slammed the booth.
I'd interrupted something. I could tell. I stared at the rain drops pelt the window on he way back, and saw something strangely familiar - a green and gold trishaw, cycling away from the marina.
And then it struck me that I'd cycled past it before . Passing them at a light, I glimpsed in and saw the rider (now covered in rain) bending down to kiss his sheltered passenger.
I sighed to myself in the back seat, thinking: wow, what a shitty day and what a manly/ romantic invention the trishaw is.
No comments:
Post a Comment