Two Too Close

I nearly died today.

It was my second close call in a week. The first incident, a few days ago, happened when I committed the sin of cycling near a school as parents were picking up their children. [No school buses?! Don't ask.] You might think parents would be extra careful around all those children. [They're not.]

When Minivan Mama evidently finished chatting with another mom across the street, she suddenly and sharply pulled away from the curb. Without looking. Right. In. Front. Of. Me.

Even though I was being cautious, moving slowly, I still had to panic-stop.

Her son waved happily through the window to his friend, and off they went—utterly oblivious to the accident narrowly averted.

I would have been injured, perhaps seriously, colliding with that minivan. Today's incident was much, much worse.

Today I'd decided to get some climbing in; having completed the first hill, I came to a stop at a T intersection where I would turn left. I unclipped and waited astride my bicycle, having heard a vehicle approaching from the right. A white Tesla waited behind me.

The vehicle I'd heard was some deep shade of red; burgundy, perhaps. A small SUV or crossover, perhaps. Driven by a woman with longish dark hair, perhaps. That much registered in my brain.

She was turning onto the road where I stood, cutting the corner at speed—completely on the wrong side of the double yellow line, into my lane. Hurtling straight at me. I'm pretty sure my mouth hung open; my expression was likely one of disbelief rather than terror. This is it, I thought. I'm going to die now.

Here I am, though, telling the tale.

Brakes screeched. The lanes flare out at the intersection, the corners rounded for cars turning right. Mindful of drivers seeking to turn right, I was positioned far enough to the left, and the Tesla just far enough behind, that the reckless driver managed to thread the needle to the left of me and to the right of the Tesla. And simply continued on her way.