Early one morning, I and my band of merry misfits were sitting around the Lineup room having our usual briefing. That is to say, we were probably talking a bunch of shit about each other and cracking each other up.
Then, the ominous Radio voice dispatched us to an accident involving 10 cyclists with bodies strewn about and Fire en route. Shit. Not the way to start the day. Of course, we all respond appropriately and immediately drop everything we were doing and run out the door to our various conveyances.
The scene was about 2-3 miles from the PD. We all arrived about the same time as Fire. The location is a major thoroughfare and a residential side street. Ahead of me (by a few hundred feet), I saw an ambulance come off the side street and make a right onto the major street. That happened to be the very same direction I was riding.
About 600 to 700 feet ahead, on the left, there is another residential side street. I am eastbound in the #1 lane. The ambulance is also eastbound, but in the #2 lane. They are rolling code. I don’t recall specifically, but once I went 97 (on scene) and there was no other traffic in the area, I think I cut my lights. The only other traffic were cop cars.
The ambulance driver decided to check out the aforementioned side street ahead on the left. I am pulling up just alongside them. That was about the time the ambulance driver, without signalling, made a lane change to the #1 lane…you know, the lane I was already in, and continued to change lanes to the left turn pocket. This resulted in him pinning me and my little motorcycle between his rapidly approaching and conversely large ambulance and the center median lined with trees that are much denser than the bones in my body. I ended up with a rapidly diminishing distance of about two feet on either side of me.
What to do, what to do. I mean after I more than likely yelled something inappropriate and shit myself, of course.
I opted for go faster. I felt that hitting the brakes left my fate up to the ambulance and probably would have result in getting tagged by the tail end of the beast. Not being one to leave control up to others, I downshifted and shot ahead, clearing the impending scene of the end of my all-too-short life.
I had to give the obligatory “What The Fuck?!?” pose. This, to the uninitiated, is the arms held up at about a 30 degree angle with the shoulders slightly raised. Although the ambulance couldn’t see it, I had the face to match. Wasted, really, but I’m nothing if not dedicated to my WTF craft.
It was just one of those things, you know? I didn’t go hunt the guy down after all was said and done and yell and carry on. He didn’t find me and get in my face and ask me what the hell is wrong with me. I like to think we both just figured, “No autopsy, no foul.” We still hadn’t found the accident and had bigger fish to fry.
In the future, I’d hope he’d throw a signal on before moving that big ‘ol bitch around willy-nilly and I hope to remember to leave my emergency lights on.
I did get one hell of an adrenaline rush out of it, though, I assure you. Oh…and the accident? Never found it. Our best guess is someone called in when they saw a gaggle of cyclists on the side of the road and one of them was changing a tire. Perhaps the others were sitting on the ground to await their cycling buddy to finish his job.
Sure was nice of the anonymous caller to stop and render aid, if not to simply ask, “Hey, is everyone okay?” Would have avoided the whole blessed ordeal of my near death. Thanks, jerk off.