Written by Kelli Phillips
With the large amount of people walking and riding around campus every day, I would venture to guess that almost everyone has had some sort of collision, or at least a close call.If you haven’t yet, you’re probably a freshman.Don’t worry, your day will come. Most of us received bike lessons as children.But something I think adults fail to teach us is how to ride in crowds.I am doubtful of my ability to dodge and weave my way to class; therefore I choose to spare everyone the anxiety and simply walk.(Although, that, too, has proven hazardous on occasion).
Perhaps it is this lack of faith in my own biking capabilities that serves as a foundation for my distrust in my fellow students.When I see or hear a bike around me, I automatically envision them running me over, or at least clipping my purse, causing me to drop all my books.
This was not helped by my brush with death last week.Okay, that may be dramatic, but it was a potentially disfiguring meeting.I was walking to class after chapel when, faintly, I heard a squeaking noise coming from around the corner of the nearest building.The squeaking continued to get louder and louder.I quickly recognized the noise as bike brakes greatly in need of some WD-40.So, as soon as I was able to peek around the side of the building, I realized there were about four seconds between me and a poorly braking bike.And, as we all know, if a student is traveling south atfive mph and a bike is traveling north at nine mph, well, math isn’t my strong subject.Regardless, was calamity to ensue.
The moment I saw the bike, anxious panic was written all over my face.I imagine my expression was closely mirrored by the oncoming biker’s.Panicked, we inevitably did both go right, both left, right, left struggle until finally we picked our separate ways, narrowly escaping the tragic accident.My apprehension and skepticism do not stop with bikes.I have this irrational anxiety when I hear a skateboard coming up behind me, too.Something about the dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun of the wheels over the sidewalk cracks always makes me cringe.(This may be a psychological disorder. I’ll check on that later).I have a confession.Whenever I hear a skateboarder coming up behind me I get an overwhelming urge to throw my arm out and clothesline them as they pass by.I have nothing against skateboarding; in fact, it’s a skill I wish I had learned while my brother was going through his skater phase.But I’ve since come to the realization that the magnitude of my clumsiness is more than a small setback in my skating career.My junior year I had a skateboard encounter that only furthered my distrust for the campus riders.Once again, I was walking down the sidewalk.But this time it was the rocky sidewalk around the Front Lawn.So, instead of the dun-dun, dun-dun, dun-dun all I could hear coming behind me was a steady ruckus of wheels rolling over the pebbles.As the sound grew closer, I could tell it was rolling unusually close.Because everyone knows when passing a pedestrian it’s crucial to allow them enough space to feel comfortable continuing their pattern of arm-swings.Well, apparently this boy wasn’t taught sidewalk etiquette in skateboarding 101 because not only did he interfere with my arm-swings, but another inch and a half closer, and he would’ve just rolled right over me. This no longer called for a simple clothesline; I had to fight the force inside me saying “Just shove him off! It won’t take much; just do it!” I am proud to say that I was able to resist that unchristian impulse. But that moment is ingrained in my mind, and boarders beware: I may not be so strong next time.
