Anatomy of a Road Bike Crash

My eyes were clinched tightly shut. There was silence. I laid on the warm asphalt on my right side. I moved my fingers, toes then my hands and feet until I felt it was safe to move my body. Still lying where I had landed, I looked back where I had just come tumbling out of a 4-man bike crash. This was the worst I'd ever seen, let alone been involved. The next thing I saw transformed into one of those lifetime snapshots you carry in your head for all time.

I was part of an early morning group ride, about 15 riders, which started in Southern Shores, warmed up progressing south on the Beach Road, then worked its way over to roads on the soundside and back north to Kitty Hawk. The ride starts at 5:30 a.m. I met the group riding toward it on the Beach Road as I live 7 miles south of their starting point. The spectrum of road experience and bike handling skills was diverse in the group which assembled that day. Many riders are quite fit and able to carry on pretty vigorous efforts.

Upon completion of the warmup, the group organized into a paceline (single file, wheel to wheel)and began the real work. The morning was beautiful with the sun reaching just above the Atlantic horizon. It felt as though it was ours and ours alone to view as we rolled down a virtually empty Beach Road. The ocean was mirror glassy and flat.

The typical ride goes like this: Sprint markers are embedded along the route, the first of which is the Nags Head Inn. The north end of Bay Drive is next, and the last sprint finishes before the light at the north end of Kitty Hawk Woods Road.

As we approach sprint markers, lifting the tempo all the while, the stronger riders vie for front position and all at once, one attacks launching a sprint toward the next mark. The paceline stretches at first and then riders explode across the road each tracing his own lane to the finish mark. The first riders across sit up and pedal a slow cadence until the group re-forms. Then everybody's off again, the paceline running around 25-26 mph between sprints.

Upon reaching the lead-up to the Woods Road sprint the group divides with the strongest riders now riding lead in their own group. Newly formed groups follow behind at whatever pace they can maintain.

I moved to the front of the lead group to take my turn pulling on Kitty Hawk Village Road and turned the corner onto Woods Road. We were cruising at 25+ mph. One quarter mile further I came off the front as a few riders wanting more speed passed to my left. As I dropped back seven places, I heard Matt coaxing me back into the paceline while opening a space. I sidled safely in ahead of Matt and behind Mark. We were between 27 and 28 mph now and steady.

The riders in front of Mark were in this order: Roger, Chip, Art, Joe and Robert (at the front). Fortunately this day we had two doctors in our group.

I was watching the line of riders' heads and shoulders while peering over Mark's right shoulder. Occasionally I looked at the proximity of my front wheel to Mark's rear wheel, maintaining a safe distance but staying in his slipstream.

The familiar sound of spokes cutting the morning air was in my ears. Riders' heads and bodies were moving in an unscripted, wiggling choreography all the while working to stay rail steady on the bikes.

In one long, long instant Roger (Mark was between us) dropped straight down gone from my view, his head and body twisting to the left. Mark reacted by steering left and catching Roger's now tumbling bike and going down himself. Roger and his bike were now before me as I jambed on my brakes. Matt streaked by on the right plowing into the helpless Roger still sliding on his back, his bike laying over him.

Having no place to veer, I rode my skidding bike into the tangled mess of downed riders and bikes. I can clearly remember attempting to miss my friends as they lay there. My front wheel stuck hard on something and then the inevitable came. I went over my handlebars tucking my head, turning one shoulder to the ground hoping to roll while kicking out of my pedals. I ended the super spill pretty far down the road by myself. All of this in one long, long instant. Roger was one of the two doctors in our group this day.

I was afraid to look back at them that morning. These were special people in the life of a man. We come together only for this hard work---a loose team, growing closer in whatever precision we can muster each day on our road bikes.

I got up as Mark was getting up also. We went to Roger and saw he was unconscious. Matt was on the street edge holding his head and moaning. I ran to my bike seat bag, grabbed my cell phone, cut it on and literally pleaded with the phone to find the "Network" it was searching for before making itself available. I called 911.

The front part of our group was arriving in our midst. Robert ran back up the traffic lane in which we had crashed in order to direct oncoming vehicles around us. The rear group began to arrive. Two riders bent over Roger attending to him as best they could. I directed some to take off their jerseys and cover him lest he go into shock. I had the 911 operator in my ear asking tedious questions. I gave her our location. As I spoke I can remember the absolute awe and bewilderment in the other riders' faces as they took in the scene.

A couple came running to us from a nearby home offering pillows and blankets. I could hear sirens, one coming from each end of the road. I soon realized Art, the other doctor on the ride, was one of the two attending to Roger. As the 911 operator began asking me medical questions about Roger I passed the phone to Art so that he could communicate the medical situation. I didn't know whether I helped or hindered by doing that.

We helped pull Matt and his bike off the road. The other riders filled in around us picking up bikes and parts and taking them off the road. A paramedic was at my side offering alcohol soaked cotton swaths to clean the blood off my right leg and arm, all standard road rash, my only injuries. Mark had the same injuries. Matt had a concussion.

Roger was seriously hurt, a breath away from life changing injury or death. He spent that night in a hospital intensive care unit. His injuries? Four broken ribs, broken scapula, brain hemorrhage, severe concussion and a severe hip bruise causing him to loose 3 units of blood internally.

When the ambulances left us there that morning, we weren't sure if one of our group would live. Everyone went home. I got on my bike and rode south and the long rest of my day. Since this group ride we all have had much to think about---mostly how to be safer and even why we do what we do.

This post will be followed by my own discussion of group road cycling safety in the next post. Also I'll reveal why this accident occurred having now spoken to the riders involved including Roger. In the meantime, if you are an experienced cyclist, I would love to hear your comments relative to improving safety with such a diverse group riding together. If you prefer to respond off line my email is skip.saunders@gmail.com. I welcome your take.