And then you know it again, it can also go wrong. It didn’t go wrong, just about, but it was close. A warning, a narrow escape. Of course, when you dream and make plans, you assume that everything will go well. A spare tire crammed into the saddlebag is enough precaution against discomfort.
And we actually think that even that is superfluous, because you don’t assume that things can go wrong. That the material leaves you in the lurch, someone gets the stomach flu (another holiday ailment from the old days that now seems to have died out) or, even worse, that someone has an accident.
Now the chance of the latter is not so great. Already in the south of the Netherlands we stood for the first time at a red traffic light in a deserted landscape. Not a person, let alone a vehicle, for miles around. So I drove on and only realized after a hundred meters that I was alone. My friends, both blessed with imposing civil service backgrounds, were still standing on the deserted country road, staring at the red light. It will be clear, with such an attitude you will not easily have accidents. There are bigger daredevils.
The short inside bend
And that’s why I’m so shocked today. We have traveled more than a hundred kilometers to the village of Néret. It was lovely cycling weather and we didn’t encounter too many altimeters, so we rode pleasantly chatting through the beautiful and friendly landscape.
In the afternoon, as happens dozens of times every day, we approached a priority road. All three of us knew we had to turn right. Just look to the left, if necessary brake for a moment or even stand still completely and then the short inside bend. Like hundreds of times before.
‘daring’
One of my friends was in front, the other and I next to each other about three or four meters behind. Walking pace, five kilometers per hour. Ten at most. And then… the front one drove onto the priority road. Just like that. While a bus arrived. A van that raced along that departmental road at a lousy pace. The van swung into the left lane, honking furiously, followed by a few more cars, glaring furiously at us. My heart skipped a beat, my neighbor was silent for a moment. Then he broke the silence with a sober “Dare!”.
Our friend was now cycling about thirty meters in front of us so we had to turn on to catch up with him. Strangely enough, the three of us never talked about it again. Ah, what can you say about something so obvious? And if there’s nothing to say about it, maybe it’s better not to talk about it.
Because let it be crystal clear, from now on we are all three more careful and I have resolved to wait for red traffic lights on deserted country roads.