pen ink for hire.

My brother got hit by a car on his bike yesterday.

Yesterday evening I received this text from my bro (also an avid commuter ala bicycle in the Fort ‘o Wayne): “Just got hit by a car on my bike. Had my laptop in my bag but I think it’s fine. I’m pretty bruised where the bumper slammed into my shin and dinged up my arm where I hit the ground. Other than that feeling pretty alright. He drove me to get a new bike. A Trek SL 2000.”

Wait, what!?

Unbelievable. We met up later that night and I got to see some of the damages. Sure enough, he’s only a little bruised. Apparently a car turning right on red didn’t slow or yield to my brother coming through the green light. Knocked him off the bike just before running over it—bending the wheel and fork and ripping the derailleur to shreds. The weirdest part of the story was that the “running over” of the bike happened just after the accident itself. According to my bro, the driver of the car seemed to have plenty of time to stop. But instead just kinda creeped up over the bike until it was destroyed. Not maliciously, just almost in a haze. While Bryan (my bro) yelled obscenities at him on the sidelines.

The driver immediately got out of his car, insanely apologetic and offering to take Bryan to a bike shop right away to buy him a new one. I’m assuming he’s counting on Bryan being ok, physically, and thinking he can kinda pay him off now by alleviating the bike loss with a brand new one. Really odd.

Bryan took him up on it.

The first thing Bryan noticed when he got in the car was that everything but the driver’s seat had been removed. The car was stripped down to the metal and plastic. The door shuts. Bryan sees that the passenger door handle is missing.

Surely Bryan is about to die. As he is telling me this story, my heart is racing—knowing he made it out alive—but filling in the gaps in my mind with all sorts of horrendous Ted Bundy nightmares. They arrived at a place I’ve never heard of in Fort Wayne called “The Ol’ Ball and Chain Shop.” Specializing in used sporting goods, airsoft guns, blowguns and accessories, and “tactical gear.” What in the world!?

Now I’m thinking Pulp Fiction—Bruce Willis’ encounter with Zed and the gimp in the basement layer of the pawnshop. Bryan said as soon as they walked in, everybody knew the driver already. He had a $100 bike on hold there and just happened to be on his way to pick it up. But instead shelled out upwards of 500 bones to get Bryan a gently used Trek road bike. Oh yeah, I guess the Ol’ Ball and Chain Shop has refurbished bikes too.

And that was that. They parted ways and Bryan rode his new bike home. Easy as that. But I have a pit in the bottom of my stomach thinking…who the hell was this guy? The whole thing seems like a weird kidnapping operation. Second location is meant for “bike shopping” and final examination of the prey. Bryan failed the test. Or…this dude felt really bad and didn’t’ want to get sued. And just happened to be driving the sketchiest car on the planet.

My buddy, Ving, and I may be visiting Ol’ Ball and Chain this weekend. See if they have any batteries.