For those of you not familiar with the concept of “Dooring”: v. To Door. To be so closed off from the world that as you exit your big steal bubble (ie: car/truck) you throw open the door without looking, without so much as glancing in your mirrors, and inconveniently snag a passing cyclist. Often, said cyclist’s wheel will connect with said door and the rider will pitchpole over their handlebars, momentarily learning to fly. Alternatively, if your bubble was for example, a big delivery truck, said cyclist’s wheel might roll under the door, slamming the rider front-on into your metal barrier, using instead their body to stop their 15mile an hour momentum.
Saturday morning, on my way to work. Same route, same time, same bike – everything is normal. I’m cruising along at a good clip, down a bit of a downhill. Less than a foot away from me, a door opens into my bike lane. A huge metal truck door. My bike flies under it, my body slams into it, and I bounce off sideways into traffic, hitting my head on the bitumen as I land. Lying in the middle of the road clutching my bleeding, potentially broken hand, I think: Oh shit, I just got doored!
I’m fine. My hand wasn’t broken, just jammed and bent a little. My neck didn’t fracture either, just sprained. No helmet on my head (wear your helmet!!!), but it’s fine too, no major concussion. The swelling and bruising everywhere else are on their way down and my neck is freeing up. 5 days off work and my paycheck will feel it. I can type this post using my right hand finally, though making a fist still hurts. As soon as it fully heals, I’ll be shaking a clenched fist at every delusional, unobservant vehicle out there.
For christ’s sake – LOOK FOR BIKES. Seriously.