The Dangers of Supposedly Great Civil Engineering Products

Alright, word is starting to get around. I don't want you to end up hearing this from someone else, so I might as well say it:

I fell off of my bike.

Well, not fell off of, per se; that would imply that I was at a standstill astride it and spontaneously tumbled. What really happened was that I collided with something which subsequently caused me to fall. In any case, the last time I can recall becoming disengaged from my bicycle against my will was in my driveway at age 8. Granted, I don't ride often, so not only am I inexperienced but the odds are also working in my favor.

No doubt you're intrigued. With what treacherous object did I collide? What sort of impact occurred that resulted in my entire right side tangling with the asphalt?

It's something you never would accuse of being dangerous. In fact, most people would in fact argue that they are intended for *safety*, thereby making my altercation that much more troubling.

Or ludicrous. You be the judge.

I ran into a sidewalk.

Yeah, you heard me. My bike and I were accosted by something generally accepted by the public to be innocuous, even beneficial. No, this is not the case. I'm here to tell you- and listen good- that sidewalks are a nefarious breed of civil engineering. Friendly on the surface, they plot our demise with each waking moment. You think it's funny, but try to tell me you won't look slightly askance at the next sidewalk you see. Try to tell me you won't be at least a little bit suspicious once you've heard my story and know what they're capable of.

Now here's what happened. In the interest of full disclosure, I want to give the sidewalk its due and allow you to draw your own conclusions. I'll attempt to be as unbiased as someone deleteriously affected by those black-hearted concrete slabs can possibly be. You'll have to forgive me if my newfound abhorrence is detectable; understand that while I'm trying to be objective, affording due process to such a clearly deceitful structure seems to me akin to exonorating my grandmother's rapist.

So there I was, peddling along on my trusty 2-speed (it was once 10, but most gears have long since quit working), whistling a happy tune. It was probably either "Jesus Loves Me" or "Amazing Grace;" I can't exactly recall. Anyway, I was minding my own business, anticipating the intersection ahead, when suddenly- out of nowhere!- a curb silently crept up on my right side. It pursued me, making me nervous. What did it want? My first instinct was to move to safer ground; I didn't want to fight if I didn't have to. I wanted that curb to understand that I wasn't interested in trouble- I just wanted to be left alone. Yet when I tried to pull away from it, it followed right on my heels. The audacity! Never before have I been treated with such unprovoked aggression on the part of an inanimate object. I tried to push it away, but it redoubled its efforts and came back at me mercilessly. I kicked at it desperately. If I could just get it to come to a standstill instead of rushing toward me with such celerity, I might have a chance. They're powerless when you take away their momentum, after all. But it was no use- I went down, guns a-blazin', prayers to Allah a-screamin'. The outside of my right calf hit first and was dragged along a good few feet as that damned sidewalk pulled me closer. My right hip took the brunt of the fall, followed by my right shoulder. Luckily, I was wearing shorts and a tank top, so most areas that hit were exposed skin. And the finishing move of this vicious sidewalk? A headshot. At the very last moment, as though it hadn't already done enough damage to both my pummelled appendages and ego, it rose up to clobber the side of my head. A *thwak* of plastic-coated styrofoam echoed in my suddenly acutely aching (but fortunately well-protected) head.

"FUCK," I seethed, not so much out of pain as frustration for having lost the fight and concern for potential head injury. I sat up and looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the attack: nothing. No cars on this side road; the sidewalk had chosen a cleverly secluded area.

I pulled myself back to standing position, lifting the bike off of me and pushing down the kickstand. I glared at the perpetrator: no sign of malice. Of course. Innocent as ever, it would no doubt get away with this hit-and-run scot free. I sat back down, assessing my situation. I knew I'd hit my head, but I hadn't blacked out. I wasn't dizzy. Just dirty and shaken. My arm and leg were scraped up but good and my hip was relentlessly letting me know it was there. After a few minutes to regain my composure and allow the pain in my head to subside, I brushed myself off, remounted my steed, and pedaled on: I couldn't let the sidewalk have the pleasure of thinking it had beat me. No, I would not be daunted, though I was now more aware than ever of its villainy and no longer doubted how cruel it could be. I kept my eye on it for the rest of my ride and kept a safe distance from its unassuming precipice.

Today I awoke with a bevy of souvinirs from my battle: a good sized mottled patch of purple on my hip, a scabbed leg, and a stiff neck. Good GOD, a stiff neck. The headache long vanished, praise the Flying Spaghetti Monster, but other pains remain- pains that will forever make me wary of sidewalks. I know better than to trust them now. I know better than to get too close...and I hope you heed my words. Please take away from my tale of horror a lesson of your own; don't let the sidewalks abscond with your flesh and pride. Know that you need to protect yourself, because they'll never be caught...they're above the law and you'll have no recourse should you be attacked. Let this be a warning.

And kids? Wear your helmets. I'd be in much worse shape today if I hadn't, not that I even considered going without. I'm just saying, it's your greatest defense in the war against sidewalks. Don't let them win.