I knew something was wrong as soon as I sat on the bicycle. It was still rideable after the accident; I know this because I recall Marvin riding it after we collected it from the cops (one of the few things I remember about the days after the accident). But something is definitely amiss here. I got off the bike and started looking at things…..the frame is bent!!! So is the seat post, how do you bend a seat post? Maybe I was struck by a car, nobody saw the accident, the policia simply assumed there were no cars involved because the bike still rolled OK.
I wanted to know more about what took place out of curiosity, but it wasn’t real important to know everything about that occurred because the REALLY important thing is that God saw fit to spare me (yet again) and I am here to live another day. Anyhow, I asked some of the people who were involved in helping me for more details. Marvin said the story he got from the police was I was on a busy road (to Canton?) in the afternoon, just outside of Xela, and I hit a speedbump and rode off the side of a bridge. The cops arrived and called for an ambulance but the ambulance never showed, so the cops drug me up the embankment and put me in the back of the cop car. On the way to the La Democracia Hospital Publico I went into seizures. They dropped me off at the hospital then paid a visit to Colin at Vrisa English Bookstore. Colin rents bicycles in addition to selling books. A while back, a gringo got nailed on a bike he had rented there (that guy spent 3 weeks in the hospital) and the cops thought maybe my bike came from there. Colin informed them that it wasn’t one of his bikes, but said he would go to the hospital and have a look at the gringo tomorrow; and I do vaguely remember a stranger visiting me at the hospital and telling me something emphatically over and over but not grasping what he was saying. I’m glad I had the opportunity to meet Colin the other day, he is an interesting fellow, we talked for quite a while. He said when he arrived at the hospital Dona Gloria, Mayra, Mario and others were already there so I was in good hands. Dona Gloria said she spoon fed me jello she brought to the hospital, that’s just like her to think I needed something to eat. Marvin offered to drive me to the spot where it happened, but when we met the following day to go, his car would not start, someone had swiped the battery.
On the airplane to Houston I told the guy sitting next to me about my accident. He said he hit a bicyclist once near Xela. The guy was hurt pretty bad, but his main concern was that his bike was smashed and he needed it for work. He said “have no worries, I will buy you THREE bikes!”. He said he was glad that he stopped; his conscience would have bothered him if he had not. I will never know for sure if I was hit or forced off the road by a car; I am uncoordinated enough to inflict grave injury upon myself without any help. But maybe someone did hit me….and kept on driving. I wonder if he remembers me flying thru the air and then lying still on the embankment. He probably thinks he killed me. Maybe he will have nightmares for the rest of his life. It’s always best to stop, rather than risk nocturnal visits from the ghost of the dead gringo cada noche…..especially when the gringo ain’t dead, but is sitting here feeling all right today.
