Getting Hit By A Motorcyclist

The road traffic in this land of the pure (al-Bakistan) is truly chaotic. Few use the roads in a sensible and predictable manner. Motorcyclists are the worst offenders. Almost nobody notices a lone cyclist pedalling away. Pedestrians risk getting run over by speed-monsters. This story is about yours truly getting hit by a motorcyclist.

He came, he never saw and hit me

It was 07:16 a.m. on Friday, the 3rd of July 2026—a day before the famous Tour de France bicycle race was scheduled to start. I was in good spirits, humming the lyrics of Uriah Heep’s 1972 classic rock song, July Morning:

There I was on a July morning, I was looking for love
With the strength of a new day dawning
And the beautiful sun

There was almost no traffic and certainly no lost love on the roads. The stressed school-going children and their speed-demon chauffeurs seemed to be enjoying the summer vacations.

It was the tail-end of my fifty kilometres ride. A glance at my bike’s side-view mirror—mounted at the end of the handlebar—showed a motorcyclist approaching from the rear. It being a right hand drive country, I moved from the left side of the road while hand-signalling a right turn. The motorcyclist did not appear to be slowing down. To avoid confusing him, it made sense to maintain the course and make no abrupt moves.

The motorcyclist might have been confused since birth. On our pure roads, such motorcyclists shamelessly disregard traffic signs and dart about unpredictably while ogling at their hand-held cell phones.

Wham, bang, thank you Sam

At a moderately fast speed, this motorcyclist crashed into my rear right side. I heard no screeching brakes; it happened very fast. Miraculously, I remained mounted but the Food Panda delivery-boy fell hard. Luckily there was no regular vehicular traffic behind us.

I moved to the left side of the road and stopped to scold the boy. In accordance with the national trait, he blamed me while lying flat on the road. His bike showed damage, an elbow bled but he was quick to get into an argument.

I felt pain on my right toe. The bike’s chain had come off the chain-ring and the rear derailleur was bent out of shape. I went, oh my Bianchi, my baby! Luckily no bones felt fractured. I was unsure if God tested this Adam like a crash-test dummy or Satan engineered the accident.

Poor people versus rich folks

Several pedestrian males gathered around, listening with temporary neutrality to the arguments and counter-arguments that followed. They would soon begin to side with the motorcyclist.

Upset at being treated as an invisible cyclist on the road, I maintained an unforgiving stance. My Shimano cycling shoes showed damage on their carbon soles but their stiff material saved my feet. The damage to the bike and my apparel prompted me to demand compensation for repairs and parts replacement.

“I want to call the police. Will someone lend me a phone?” Unluckily, that day I was not carrying a cell phone.

Earlier, in June, my trusted Samsung Galaxy S7-Edge died in my arms after having been a loving companion for ten full years. The cause: the black screen of death. With its beloved motherboard completely gone, I lost all the data which felt worse than losing one’s soul in a digital world.

With six men around, none obliged but instead announced, “We don’t have a phone. Sir, let the poor boy go.”

I retorted, “Your poor boy hit this rich man from the rear. Why has he not admitted his mistake? And who engaged you all as defence lawyers?”

In this land of the pure, perhaps 1% people will ever readily admit their mistakes. By this time, emotions were running high. When the boy got loud, I got louder and it worked. He offered repairs at the nearest tyre-shop.

I refused, “This is an imported bike whose parts can’t be repaired by roadside tyre shops.”

To cut the story short, he finally coughed up a small compensation. The aim was to teach the boy a hard lesson so that he would cease being reckless and not harm others on the road.

There is a story behind my strong reaction and demand for compensation. A few years ago, another Food Panda delivery-boy crashed into my parked Mercedes E200, broke its taillight and caused damage worth PKR 28,000 (USD 100) which went out of my pocket.

Off the saddle

Serious repair work of the bike was postponed in favour of attending to the light injury to my right knee and foot. I walked with a limp and by the third day, the red bruises had turned purplish and swollen. Taking Neurobion pain-killer tablets, massaging the leg with muscle-relaxing Voltrel 2% gel and getting sufficient bed-rest was essential.

Even after two weeks when I could walk normally and all the swelling and redness had vanished, there was mild pain deep in the bones. I was not eighteen any more. Complete healing would take two additional weeks. I remained grounded for well over a month.

What now?

If one refuses to learn from an accident, more accidents sometimes take place to teach harder lessons. This is how God’s universe appears to operate.

I immediately adopted the following safety strategies:

1. When turning, be more vigilant. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.
   
2. Avoid taking silly chances with fools around or behind. Forget Muhammad Ali’s saying: "He who is not courageous enough to take risks will accomplish nothing in life."
3. Ensure carriage of a cell phone.
4. Call the police if things go out of control.

In upcoming articles, I shall talk about how I handled the bike repairs and how I repaired my cycling shoes.

Stay tuned and enjoy safe cycling.

Read more CYCLING articles HERE.

©Tahir Gul Hasan, 2026