On my way home from work I bumped into Oliver the taxi driver that knocked me down at the very start of the year, putting my C2C training on hold for a couple of weeks. Thankfully the bump wasn’t literal this time and I was genuinely pleased to see him. I pulled alongside him at the junction of Oldfield Road and Chapel St and chatted until the lights changed. He apologised yet again (oh pur-lease stop it man!) and 5 1/2 months on from our coming together I was delighted to tell him I was fighting fit. I told him I’d been able to ride 140 miles at the weekend and I suppose in the time since he injured me I’d recovered sufficiently to ride about 1,800 more. He told me again that someone had made a claim against him, and again I assured him that I had called off my British Cycling solicitors. It transpires that the claim was for whiplash and made by the punter in his car who he was taking to Hope hospital anyway.
The meeting reminded me that someone had been watching over me throughout my training and the incident had sharpened me up enough to avoid a horsebox incident a few weeks later. I also happened to be wearing the shiny new hi-viz Altura jacket I tagged on to the bike shop repair claim I made against him.