I did. But it was a very mild hit. I was walking home late at night when i was about 14 or so and I was crossing a street just when a car was rolling up the sidestreet. I was positive the car would see me but they kept coming. I kind of rolled up onto the hood and rolled back down, all in one movement. It was a small Neon kind of car so the hood was small and rounded and they were not going fast.
After I landed on my feet, a foreign accent inquired if i was alright. I couldn’t see the person and I was so dazed and confused i said i was alright and just kept walking. The whole experience was kind of surreal. It just didn’t bother me, i don’t know why.
Yes, when I was in seventh grade. I was crossing the street in front of the middle school. I used the crosswalk, but there was a semi parked directly in front of it. As I stepped out, a sport-ish car hit me and knocked me down. The guy (a high school student) wasn’t going very fast, so I wasn’t really hurt, but he insisted on taking me home anyway. He was very freaked out. I didn’t see what the big deal was, since I was fine. Thinking back on it now, though, if I’d been 16 or 17 and hit someone, the resulting anxiety would’ve made me lose bladder control for sure.
I got hit by a car when I was on my bike once. Thankfully it was a relatively slow collision. The car’s front bumper knocked the back of my bike out from behind me, but somehow I kept my balance.
It never came to injuries or damage or anything though. We just exchanged irritated looks and kept on going.
Well, kind of… I sort of hit the car (yes, I was on foot).
Circa 7th grade. Playing around with brother and friends at the bus stop in the morning, waiting for the school bus. Had just run, jumped across a ditch, and a few steps out into the road – heard a horn, turned and saw a car bearing down on me. It swerved to the left a little and as it passed, my momentum carried me into the side of the car. Spun me around and I fell down, but no injuries – bumped my head a little when falling. Parents had a doctor come out to check me, so I got to school late.
Had a few moments of fame later when I got to school and the story had already gotten around, “Dude, I heard you got hit by a car!”
I got hit by a Range Rover at my college campus; apparently the driver didn’t see me in the crosswalk and he intended to roll through a STOP sign. The thing that annoyed me was his reaction after hitting me. Instead of asking if I was OK, the driver wildly gestured for me to restrain myself from hitting or kicking his beautiful vehicle. (I’m not a violent person, but I guess some people might do such a thing.) In fact, I asked him if HE was OK, and he said yes, then immediately drove off. My hand and arm were a bit bruised for a couple days.
Like cheesepicles, I thought the whole thing was a bit surreal.
I was biking and a car turned without looking and hit me. Luckily it wasn’t going very fast and I was wearing a helmet. I think I lost consciousness briefly, but after a few moments I recovered and was able to bike home without too much shaking.
I hit a car once. I was about 13 or so and riding my new ten speed bike with a few friends. We were coasting up a side street when I got this brilliant idea to put my feet up on the handlebars.
Once the bike started to slow down, I quickly attempted to get my feet back on the pedals. The only problem was the laces from my Keds were stuck around the handle bar breaks.
The panic function started to kick in, and I lost control. The front tire slammed into the rear end of a parked Cadillac and I proceeded fly off the bike over the handlebars, roll up the back window and land on the roof. My Keds flew off my feet as some point.
I sat there for a few moments, recovering. I glanced up the street and noted that “my friends” were rolling around in the street laughing their asses off. On a porch nearby, these two old ladies were cracking up too, although, not as uproariously as my so-called friends. (More like the hand over the mouth and the entire body jiggling like Jell-O brand of cracking up).
At that point, I’m still startled, but it occurs to me that the owner of this mint Cadillac just might decide to take his beauty for a spin and wonder why there is a 14 year old, barefoot, girl sitting on his roof. I climb down, the same way I arrived. Checked the car for any damage, located my Keds and got the hell out of there.
I got hit by a truck once. The driver was apparently turning right while looking over his left shoulder. Knocked me down and into the road, but there was no traffic. Asshole didn’t even stop to see if I was OK (I was, just bruised).
I’m pretty sure I got hit by a car around the age of 10 or so (how old are you in 5th grade?). All I initially remembered was leaving school and then waking up on the couch at home. My older brother said he found me just standing behind our backyard gate crying standing next to my bike…not doing anything else like trying to open the gate…just standing there. He had no idea how long I had been there and neither do I. He said I was pretty unresponsive to anything beyond simple directions (give me your bike, go inside and lay down, etc.). Of course my mom came home at the call from my borther and took me to the hospital. Hairline fracture of the skull was about it for the physical damage (a few abrasions…nothing big or worrying) and of course a concussion.
It wasn’t till years later I got any memory back but even today it is almost all a blank. Still, I have a ‘snapshot’ in my head (no other way to describe it…just like a freeze-frame) of me on the pavement with my bike on top of my legs and a bumper hovering over it all. I think the driver ran because I have one other ‘snapshot’ of walking my bike and crying through some woods I’d go through to get home (some speculated the driver drove me home before I remembered that bit and then took off).
I got hit one winter. I always rode my bike to get around, and that day it was snowing so I was in the middle of the road trying to keep clear of the snow. This was in my neighborhood, speed limit 25, so I wasn’t worried.
Well, this guy decides he doesn’t want to follow me, he wants me out of the way. So, he gets really close to me trying to intimidate me out of the way. I got nervous and wiped out. Lo and behold, I ended up underneath the car all the way up to my hips, while still straddling the bike.
I was lucky I wasn’t hurt. And, of course, he has the temerity to get out of the car and yell at me. :rolleyes:
I never have, but my brother has. But he doesn’t remember it. I spent the summer sitting by his bed in the intensive care unit. Witnesses said he got of a bus and walked straight into the road without looking. The car hit him and he went over it, smashing the windshield in the process.
When we got to the hospital and met up with the brain surgeon it turned out to be my friends dad!
I’ve never been hit by a car, or hit anybody, but last summer my husband was.
He had spent the entire afternoon tinkering with his motorcycle with his father. He called me from his parent’s house and told me he’d be home in about ten minutes. So being the lazy wife that I am, I stretched out on the couch for a nice Sunday afternoon nap. Ten minutes later, the phone rings. I rolled over and answered it and it was my husband telling me to get outside, he’d been hit.
I immediately jumped up, threw my sneakers on, and went running outside. A few of our neighbors had seen it happen and had already called the police. The lady had been flying up the street, apparently not paying attention, and had failed to notice my husband’s turn signal blinking, indicating that he was preparing to slow down and make a right hand turn into the townhouse complex. Miraculously, his bike went skidding across the pavement but he was thrown to the side into the grass. He sustained minor roadrash and had an enormous bruise on his knee where the front of the car hit him. He was more interested in getting his bike out of the road, and after I was assured that he wasn’t going to die and his leg wasn’t going to fall off, I went after the woman. She was driving a rental car (she had recently wrecked her own car, big surprise) and seemed irritated that I was so upset. The cops did the report thing that they do, pried me off of the woman and told me to get my husband to the hospital since he had refused to ride in the ambulance. The evil woman had the nerve to call me a few choice names and flip me off as she squalled tires out of the parking lot.
After six hours in the hospital waiting room, I piled my hubby back in the car and proceeded to wait on him hand and foot for a week. Needless to say, I’m extremely cautious when driving around bikes. I later made him sell his motorcycle.
(To be fair, I told him he could buy another one later. That bike he had was cursed.)
I’ve never been hit by a car, or hit anybody, but last summer my husband was.
He had spent the entire afternoon tinkering with his motorcycle with his father. He called me from his parent’s house and told me he’d be home in about ten minutes. So being the lazy wife that I am, I stretched out on the couch for a nice Sunday afternoon nap. Ten minutes later, the phone rings. I rolled over and answered it and it was my husband telling me to get outside, he’d been hit.
I immediately jumped up, threw my sneakers on, and went running outside. A few of our neighbors had seen it happen and had already called the police. The lady had been flying up the street, apparently not paying attention, and had failed to notice my husband’s turn signal blinking, indicating that he was preparing to slow down and make a right hand turn into the townhouse complex. Miraculously, his bike went skidding across the pavement but he was thrown to the side into the grass. He sustained minor roadrash and had an enormous bruise on his knee where the front of the car hit him. He was more interested in getting his bike out of the road, and after I was assured that he wasn’t going to die and his leg wasn’t going to fall off, I went after the woman. She was driving a rental car (she had recently wrecked her own car, big surprise) and seemed irritated that I was so upset. The cops did the report thing that they do, pried me off of the woman and told me to get my husband to the hospital since he had refused to ride in the ambulance. The evil woman had the nerve to call me a few choice names and flip me off as she squalled tires out of the parking lot.
After six hours in the hospital waiting room, I piled my hubby back in the car and proceeded to wait on him hand and foot for a week. Needless to say, I’m extremely cautious when driving around bikes. I later made him sell his motorcycle.
(To be fair, I told him he could buy another one later. That bike he had was cursed.)
Bellestar thats awful! The woman didn’t even care that she could have seriously injured your husband!
The woman who hit my brother felt SO guilty. She sent letters and flowers and everything! It wasn’t even her fault, she wasn’t over the speed limit and my brother walked out from behind the bus, so she couldn’t possibly have avoided him.
I’ve never been hit by a car, or hit anybody, but last summer my husband was.
He had spent the entire afternoon tinkering with his motorcycle with his father. He called me from his parent’s house and told me he’d be home in about ten minutes. So being the lazy wife that I am, I stretched out on the couch for a nice Sunday afternoon nap. Ten minutes later, the phone rings. I rolled over and answered it and it was my husband telling me to get outside, he’d been hit.
I immediately jumped up, threw my sneakers on, and went running outside. A few of our neighbors had seen it happen and had already called the police. The lady had been flying up the street, apparently not paying attention, and had failed to notice my husband’s turn signal blinking, indicating that he was preparing to slow down and make a right hand turn into the townhouse complex. Miraculously, his bike went skidding across the pavement but he was thrown to the side into the grass. He sustained minor roadrash and had an enormous bruise on his knee where the front of the car hit him. He was more interested in getting his bike out of the road, and after I was assured that he wasn’t going to die and his leg wasn’t going to fall off, I went after the woman. She was driving a rental car (she had recently wrecked her own car, big surprise) and seemed irritated that I was so upset. The cops did the report thing that they do, pried me off of the woman and told me to get my husband to the hospital since he had refused to ride in the ambulance. The evil woman had the nerve to call me a few choice names and flip me off as she squalled tires out of the parking lot.
After six hours in the hospital waiting room, I piled my hubby back in the car and proceeded to wait on him hand and foot for a week. Needless to say, I’m extremely cautious when driving around bikes. I later made him sell his motorcycle.
(To be fair, I told him he could buy another one later. That bike he had was cursed.)
I got hit by a car at a party once… it belonged to a friend… I was sitting on his hood smoking a cigarette, and he came out drunk, the 90 or so people inside and on the lawn having failed to get his keys, got in the car without noticing I was sitting on the front, and started driving…
He didn’t even look out the front until I reached back and slammed my fist on the glass (I’d been forced into a prone position) and then he freaked, slammed on the brakes, and I went flying off the front… naturally I stopped rolling faster than the car, and the bumper slammed into my right arm and hip…
I hopped back up to my feet a second later and bowed to the people in front of the house who were split between laughing and screaming for help… and said “oh shit… I dropped my cigarette”.
Then I fell over again and was stripped and cleaned and bandaged up by a selection of nice girls whose nursing instincts apparently kicked in at the sight of blood.
I was pretty badly bruised and my shoulder had popped out of joint, but it does that a lot so it wasn’t too bad considering.
I too was hit by a car when on a bike. It was dark and I was waiting at a stop light behind a big truck. I had reflectors, taillight and even a yellow helmet, but the car driver thought it was all part of the truck in front of me and slammed right into my bike. I wasn’t injured but I was so shocked that I couldn’t stand up for half an hour. The rear wheel had to be replaced but the bike frame was fine - lucky for the driver considering it was a brand new $4000 titanium bike.
I know a couple of bike riders who were going straight through an intersection and got hit by cars turning across their lanes. Car drivers tend to underestimate the speed of a bicycle.
When I was 6 I was riding my bike with my friend, and got hit. The way the story goes (as I have no memory of it myself) is that I was going around a car parked on the side of the road, and a guy came along going a decent speed, and knocked me down. I rolled up and over the car, broke his windscreen and landed. Sometime between the connection with the car and the connection with the road I managed to break my arm (the bone stuck out through the skin, and my lower arm was only held on by about an inch of flesh) and crack my head open.
A lady in the house I was in front of called the ambulance, and my friend hightailed it home to tell my parents. As luck would have it, a paramedic crew happened to be passing on the way to somewhere else and stopped and did that looking after me thing. The dude who hit me did not even stop, because he was afraid that I was Lebanese (I lived in an area with a high Lebanese concentration) and was afraid that he would get bashed. Bastard. He did not even show up to the court case (6 years later!).
I kept the bike for about 10 years. It was very neatly bent in two. The front and back wheels were almost touching each other. I’ve also got a really neat scar that runs almost the entire circumference of my arm, and a long way along the upper arm as well (from when the plate was removed). I once managed to convince someone that it was from having a tattoo removed, because the high school I was attending would not let me in with it. He was not the brightest spark. How many 12 year olds have tattoos?
When I was younger, about fifteen or so, I tried to cross a street near the local university in the middle of the block rather than going to a crosswalk. I somehow failed to notice a car shifting from a different lane into the turning lane as I sprinted out into the road. The bottom line is that the car’s rearview mirror hit my thumb. Amazingly, my thumb was not broken.