Why cyclists can't turn on each other.

I’m writing this lying down with my laptop balanced on my left knee and a generous supply of painkillers nearby. I came off my bike on my way to work, landing on my right hip and breaking my pelvis in several places. It’ll take a year to heal. 

And the reason I came off the bike? I was pushed, deliberately, in front of witnesses and cameras, by another cyclist. 

If you can help, call 101 reference 6504284/15 or visit @whoshovedian on Twitter. You can read about it in the London Standard here. 

Cycling to work is great. I’ve been doing it for years, watching the growing ranks of commuters, roadies, fixies, off-roaders, Boris bikers, folders and shoppers that now make up a quarter of all the vehicles on the road in London’s rush hour. I’ve welcomed the ‘forward boxes’ at traffic lights that I’m certain have saved lives and the cycle superhighways too – they have flaws but they mostly work. The few times I’ve driven in the city I’ve shared the stress – almost intimidation – car drivers feel surrounded by crowds of vulnerable cyclists. The Tube makes me feel trapped.  I’m definitely a happier commuter on a bike.

Cycling to work is a chance to unwind, let a few cares bubble through, enjoy the great city I live in. It’s easily the best way to get around and that even takes account of having come off a couple of times – an oil patch here, a taxi forgetting to indicate there. I’ve always shrugged and got back on the bike again. But not this time. This time, I was taking a different route to drop off some documents - being your own bike courier is another advantage of cycling to work. I’d taken the bike path up through Hyde Park, crossing Park Lane at the lights (where a bus once narrowly missed me, antilock brakes going like machine guns, it having gone through on red) into Upper Brook Street.

The road alongside the American embassy only has room for a single file of bikes between slow-moving traffic and the side of the road. So I was surprised when a mountain bike squeezed past me, the rider then cutting in sharply to avoid a car in front. Even though I had to brake hard so he didn't hit my front wheel and make me crash, my inner bike nerd had time to notice a white Bianchi mountain bike with black stencil lettering on the downtube. You don’t see many of them.  

At the zebra crossing in front of the Embassy a pedestrian brought us to a halt beside each other. One of the good things about cycling to work is talking to people. It’s usually friendly enough and this time I pointed out to the rider – an older chap with a grey beard - that what he’d just done could have been dangerous. As I set off, he shouted that I was “Too f***ing slow” among other colourful phrases. Thinking he must be joking (my road bike’s thin tyres would usually make it faster than a mountain bike), I turned and asked if he was serious. Instead of replying, he drew level with me, placed his left hand deliberately on my right shoulder, and pushed. My bike went left, I went down and I saw a brilliant white flash as my pelvis exploded.

Cyclists and car drivers behind us were horrified. They shouted at him to stop and he looked round – so must have seen me on the ground – but kept going. An ambulance was called, the police arrived, my bike was taken care of and I was once again reminded how kind most people are. I also realized that I wasn’t going to walk away from this one – I couldn’t even sit up without extreme pain. Instead of arriving at my agency ready for another day thinking of new ideas for our clients I was in A&E for scans, x-rays, heavy-duty analgesics and a succession of concerned-looking consultants.

I was told I was lucky – cycling tends to firm the hip muscles and after flying apart the bones had pulled back into pretty much their factory specification. I wasn’t going to need what would be a long, painful reconstruction operation but I’d be in hospital for ten days, on my back and in pain for several weeks and on crutches for three months. Building a business has meant taking fewer family holidays – but now I can’t get in to the office for weeks. I feel vulnerable – my pelvis is fragile and there’s no plaster or bandages to show I’m injured so I can’t go anywhere crowded. Several months’ physiotherapy will be needed to get back to anything like where I started that morning physically. There’s a chance I’ll need an early hip replacement in ten years time. I may be back on a bike in six months (if I dare) but won’t be able to run for at least a year. (So much for the Marathon entry.)

I’ve witnessed much worse cycling accidents myself, including the woman whose life was saved recently by the London Air Ambulance on Clerkenwell Road. I know that the greatest risks to cyclists come from trucks, buses and cars. But what’s clear is that the growth in popularity of cycling brings another risk, from other cyclists becoming impatient or losing sight of quite how vulnerable we all are no matter how experienced or well-equipped. We are at risk, we need to look out for each other. And if we don’t, we will need more laws, more cameras and (though I hate the idea) licence plates to do it for us.

This was an unprovoked assault resulting in serious injury. Like pushing a person in front of a car, it’s not something society can tolerate. So the police would like to talk to the cyclist and are still looking at more video footage showing a 45ish bloke with a grey beard, dark waterproofs with orange flashes, on a white Bianchi mountain bike with black stencil lettering. If that’s you, or someone you know, please call 101 and use the reference number 6504284/15. An apology and, if there is one, an explanation would be very much appreciated.