Yours sincerely, That Cyclist

To the motorist I met this morning,

I am writing to apologise for our brief and unfortunate meeting.

It could have been averted if only there were some way for drivers to indicate their desire to turn. I don’t know, perhaps a system of flashing lights? But I should give you the benefit of the doubt; after all, it’s not as if such a system comes as standard in all automobiles, and you might not have been able to afford such a complicated and exclusive system (you obviously couldn’t afford a hands-free phone set).

I am sorry for delaying your arrival to a location of great importance. I mean, it must have been an emergency; I can see no other reason for a car to drive into the bike lane in order to overtake a turning bus. If that one set of traffic lights was going to make such great difference, you must be a nuclear scientist, or a superhero, perhaps a hostage negotiator. (In which case, why did you have two children in school uniform riding in the back? Are they also hostage negotiators?)

I concede that the dents in your metalwork were definitely caused by the impact between your vehicle and my bike. Mea culpa. It was very selfish of me to limp off to the nearest open café to wash the grit out of my cuts. I should have stayed and given you my details so as to pay for the repair work to the side of your bonnet. I mean, now you’re going to have to pay for it out of your own pocket you won’t be able to afford that system of flashing lights you were saving up for. I suppose, as consolation, you could always sell what was left of my bike for scrap; it’s not much good for riding anymore, and I hear that metal sells for quite a bit nowadays.

Perhaps it’s for the best that we didn’t exchange details. I’m of the student persuasion – I might not have been able to offer you much money, but how about a political placard? An academic diary? Some new fangles? But then, you probably wouldn’t have been able to stay and chat.

You had some hostages to save.

Yours sincerely,

That Cyclist.