Broken Bike

It all happened so quickly- one moment I was riding my bike, to skidding across the pavement..

It was, my ignorance that saved me.

 Even as the traffic rolled by and the sounds of it rushed fully into my brain, the broken bike at my feet was imbalanced, the wheels attempting to spin from the car now tumbling down the road running away from the scene. No, even as the paramedics came and a few people asked how I was, where my forms of identification were, this was my saving grace. If I had been going the right way on this street, this would be the site of a very intricate meat painting courtesy of the end of my existence. I was bleeding, a crimson red, and- in some distance- the voices were speaking to me, the burn of torn derma clawed at consciousness. Even the birds, tweeting like nothing was the matter at the cot softly cradling my body- life moved on. 

"My poor bike!" was the guiding light aside from what came streaming through the line of trees bordering a small cemetery propped up by a concrete border. The bike was discussed by people that I could not hear, only see, trying to come to a conclusion on what to do with it, as a police officer on foot arrived from mid jog to take it over.

 Evidence, most likely. 

I could hear Sherlock in my head as the paramedics moved to slide the cot into the back of the ambulance, the doors beginning to shut as the machines readied to hook my life-signs up to it. Clarity, as the little blue bike was smashed and decrepit, painting smeared and showing the underlying metal, whispered the same thing as I closed my eyes to the small motions and prick of unconsciousness. A concussion.

 Really, "it was the ignorance that saved me" today.

Author's Note

This is a timed challenge. I do not plan on continuing.