Boris Bajic
Guest
A few years back I was bowled off my fixie by a little old lady who failed to spot me as she left Tesco.
Whappo! I hit the ground and my right shoulder was in some pain.
I agreed to her entreaties to let her call an ambulance and we chatted amicably with witnesses and bystanders as I sat on the kerb in pain.
The ambulance arrived very quickly and after several tests on my chassis and bendy bits, I was advised to go with them to hospital. They didn't try to make me when I said I'd be on my way. The crew seemed like lovely people.
A copper showed up and took my details. He was lovely too. (I don't associate him in any way with the text I got later offering legal support after my accident. I thought it was just West Mercia policy to keep badgering for a mobile number that I rarely give out 'for his paperwork'... but I digress.)
Everybody was lovely. One of the ambulance crew was particularly kind and attentive. He even mentioned my lack of a helmet in a good way and said that he understood some people just didn't wear them. Concerned, but not in a bossy way is how he came across.
Through the pain, everything was really rather lovely. The little old lady admitted full responsibility and was full of remorse. Her insurance would pay for the repairs.
Then the chatty ambulance guy said he could see I was a keen cyclist, because I was on a single-speed bike. On a what?
"Fixed!!" I yelled back, before storming out of his ambulance incandescent with the rage of indignant horror and hobbling far, far away from that lumpen ignorance... that ignorance that creeps like a cancer into the very belly of our so-called public services. Single-speed? Single-speed? Come on!
Ignorant, brainless, over-friendly, goatee-bearded, uniform-wearing, opinionated moron!
That blatant, grinning ignorance ruined a perfectly good day.
Whappo! I hit the ground and my right shoulder was in some pain.
I agreed to her entreaties to let her call an ambulance and we chatted amicably with witnesses and bystanders as I sat on the kerb in pain.
The ambulance arrived very quickly and after several tests on my chassis and bendy bits, I was advised to go with them to hospital. They didn't try to make me when I said I'd be on my way. The crew seemed like lovely people.
A copper showed up and took my details. He was lovely too. (I don't associate him in any way with the text I got later offering legal support after my accident. I thought it was just West Mercia policy to keep badgering for a mobile number that I rarely give out 'for his paperwork'... but I digress.)
Everybody was lovely. One of the ambulance crew was particularly kind and attentive. He even mentioned my lack of a helmet in a good way and said that he understood some people just didn't wear them. Concerned, but not in a bossy way is how he came across.
Through the pain, everything was really rather lovely. The little old lady admitted full responsibility and was full of remorse. Her insurance would pay for the repairs.
Then the chatty ambulance guy said he could see I was a keen cyclist, because I was on a single-speed bike. On a what?
"Fixed!!" I yelled back, before storming out of his ambulance incandescent with the rage of indignant horror and hobbling far, far away from that lumpen ignorance... that ignorance that creeps like a cancer into the very belly of our so-called public services. Single-speed? Single-speed? Come on!
Ignorant, brainless, over-friendly, goatee-bearded, uniform-wearing, opinionated moron!
That blatant, grinning ignorance ruined a perfectly good day.
