I got back on my bike just in time for Car Free Day today. I am no longer waddling around like an arthritic penguin, five days after failing again to complete the ridiculous 50K trail race in Tennessee that pushed me past my limits last year.

Crash #4 happened right behind me this morning and, like the others, was preceded by warning signs. I am pretty careful to stay close to the right shoulder, giving a hand signal and jingling my bell and looking over my shoulder before crossing the center line to pass. Today I didn't follow my habit, on a downhill section where there are some rooty bumps on the right side of the path. That alone wouldn't be enough to break protocol, but there was also a construction worker doing something right at the edge of the path, and given my defensive assumption while cycling that everyone else wants me to die, I slid left to give him a wide berth.

Without prior warning, someone to my left barked "On your left, man!" I scooted back over, calling out a hasty "Sorry!" as the guy passed. I got a clue as to why he didn't give the customary audible warning when I heard music coming from out of his gear somewhere. I love biking with music, but just don't think it's worth the added risk.

Up ahead, the dude stopped to adjust his backpack, and after I passed he pulled up behind me at a red light. We crossed and I maintained a steady speed, 12 to 16 inches from the shoulder, to give him plenty of space to get by again. He hung back and we went down a kind of tricky spot where there are more bumps after a short but steep drop, then a sharp left turn. I heard the stomach-turning clatter of plastic bicycle parts impacting pavement. Cars crashing make the same sound these days. I remember when steel cars used to hit each other with a loud metal bang.

I wheeled around and saw him sitting on the curb cradling one wrist as I approached. He was finishing a sentence: "...can't believe how I flipped there." He got up and took a few steps around, bleeding from some joints and missing some shoulder epidermis but with no bones showing. The music was still playing from his backpack in the grass. I asked him if I should make a call but he declined. I waited a few moments longer until he seemed to be out of danger and turned to go.

"Thanks for stopping, man" he said. I guess he'll be back in the car tomorrow.