I am a bad person. Today, I was riding off to get a mobile phone card (this is how it works in every other country but the U.S.) and I went around a turn on my moped and hit a lady’s bike. She was walking her bike across turning lane when I hit it, and the bicycle and all her worldly belongings went flying all over the place.
She was fine, her bike was fine (I hit the back tire, and I saw that the rim was not bent when she picked her bike up and got out of the middle of the street). Everything was seemingly OK; she picked up her stuff and moved it out of the way, checked her bike and stood next to it, looking around, appearing not to be too flustered. I raised my visor to ask if she was OK, and her eyes widened. She became hysterical and started screaming in her native tongue; everyone around stared at me. I freaked, popped the bike back into first and took the fuck off.
This was wrong. Not that there weren’t things that the lady could have done to help prevent the accident, but excuses are for losers, and I take full responsibility for my actions (if by saying “responsibility” I mean “leaving the scene of the accident”). I regret leaving the scene so quickly without throwing her a couple of yuan for her troubles, but I freaked and jetted, and I have to live with that (and the constant fear that the police are tracking the white boy down in hopes that they’ll get to cane his ass).
I have brushed a few people, and a few people have brushed me. I usually keep my helmet on and look at them, then there is some conciliatory gesture made by one side, there’s an acknowledgement, there is mutual inspection the respective vehicles involved, and then you drive off. I did the dance (although this “brush” was a little worse than the previous accidents) and made the mistake of showing her my white face. Now I am not trying to rationalize leaving by any other means than being afraid of being prosecuted by the government, but her expression COMPLETELY changed. When she looked at me as I raised the visor on my helmet, I was convinced she saw a paycheck.
I went home because I needed to get some ID to bring back to the telecom office, got in the shower, and thought about the day’s events (and it was only 11:30). I apologized and asked God if he would bring his revenge upon me quickly, and that he did.
There’d been a clicking sound on my moped that I’d been ignoring for the last couple days or so. I hopped on my bike to go back to the telecom store, and a mile later the clicking sound went away in a KA-THUNK and a flourish of twisted metal as the chain snapped from its gears and tore my chain guard open.
I just looked up at the sun and smiled.
No, I don’t think I’m paid up for what I’ve done, not by a long shot. I just consider that a friendly reminder from the Old Guy letting me know he’s listening.
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