stories

How the "Cycle of Death" got its name

Of all the stories I've ever told, this seems to be the one that most people want to hear again and again. It's a tale of woe from my freshman year. (Flashback music and fade...)

Back in my freshman year, I lived in Paty Hall at the University. I didn't like the idea of having to walk to all of my classes, so I decided that I would get a bicycle. So I did what any college freshman with little money would do...I took a trip to Wal-Mart and picked up the $80 Wal-Mart special bike.

Thus armed with a new method of transportation and a "Bike Club" (yes, the makers of "The Club" actually put out a bike lock), I was ready to take on the University's sidewalks and roads.

Now, I like to ride my bicycle to wherever I'm going as fast as possible, because then I'll be there as soon as possible (obviously). So generally, when I had to stop for some reason, I had to stop pretty quickly. As a result, I put a heavy wear on my brake pads within only a few weeks of getting the bike. This made it tough to slow down, especially when it was raining.

Fast forward a few weeks, into the middle of October or so. It was starting to get cold and rainy, but I rode to class anyway, even though it usually soaked me to the bone to do so.

I now need to give a little bit of background to those of you who don't know the university's campus or don't remember the way that it used to be before all the construction that is taking place now. So here's the route that I would take to go to my history class: turn from Paty Hall's road right onto McCorvey Drive and head towards the Ferguson Center. Passing it on the right, there was enough pavement open (the area where the new Student Services Building is used to be a parking lot) to move past all of the construction. Getting past all that, you'd go down a relatively small incline, through a chain-link fence gate, and behind B.B. Comer Hall, passing a massive drop on your right leading all the way down to Marr's Pond. Once that was done, you'd take the road that you were on down to ten Hoor Hall, the building where I took Honors Western Civ I that fall.

Anyway, on this cold, rainy October day, I was pedaling to my history class, just like any other day. I had my head down, really pumping those pedals. There weren't any other people around. I had just reached the aforementioned slope after all the construction. I looked up.

The chain-link gate was closed.

I pressed my brake handles on my handlebars. They didn't respond. They were too worn and slick from the rain.

Now slightly panicked, I surveyed my options. To my left was a beautiful Corvette. It couldn't be more than a couple of years old, and it had a vanity license tag that said "VETTISH".

In the middle of my sight line, of course, was the rapidly approaching chain-link gate.

To my right was the steep hill I mentioned before. It was probably about 150 feet or so downhill, and I almost surely would go into the pond if I wasn't thrown from my bike before.

So I chose the fence...and braced myself.

WHAM!

Of course, I flew off of the bike and landed, hard, on the ground, right next to the fence, breath knocked out of me. The bike also flew.

You know how a bike's handlebars are normally perpendicular to its wheels? Well, in this crash, the handlebars turned parallel to the wheels. The bike fell on top of me, and the handlebar somehow managed to wedge itself through one of the links in the fence.

I was now effectively pinned underneath my bicycle. In the pouring down rain. On wet ground.

I just lay there a couple of seconds.

Since I had the wind knocked out of me, I was too weak to try to get the bike off of myself, so I did the next best thing. With all the breath I could manage, I cried out weakly, "Help..."

Luckily, there was a guy about 50 yards or so ahead of me. He had heard the crash of the gate, and turned back when he heard me call. He got me out from underneath my bicycle, and asked me if I was all right. I managed to get my breath back, and thanked him. Then I walked the bicycle, parallel handlebars and all, to class. Of course, the people in the class were also wondering just what happened to me, and when I told them, wondered why I had come to class at all. After class, I went to lunch back in the Paty Hall Dining Area, and told my friends (including my sister) what had happened.

My sister has contagious laughter. So needless to say, when I told everybody about the part about the bike pinning me to the ground, she let loose. People were staring from all around the cafeteria.

And thus the legend of the "Cycle of Death" began...

Epilogue: I finally got around to buying new brake pads for the bike. They didn't help me in another instance, but that's another story for another time. Even with that accident, I've still never missed a class in college, and I'm proud of that fact.

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