I always assume whenever I start a motorcycle ride, to be aware that anything can happen at any time. It’s almost a given, and the tension of having this heightened awareness of potential danger lasts until I am on the dirt and away from traffic, intersections, stop signs and the like. After riding and racing road bicycles since 1986, I rarely have this same thought when I start out on a bicycle ride. More and more I am reminded that on a bicycle, you are more vulnerable.

Last night, I was riding with a group of six riders in Park City. It was the first Wednesday night group ride of the spring, and we were riding a pretty stiff pace the whole time. After climbing and descending Royal Street near Deer Valley, we rode back through town and started to make our way home towards Kimball Junction. We were moving along in a tight paceline on a wide shoulder, near the “white barn” in Park City. I was in the back of the group when suddenly the rider (Paul) in front and to my left was wrestling with his handlebars, as his front wheel swept from side to side. The tight, 6-person formation buzzing along as one unit in a straight line became 6 individuals dispersing in what limited space was available between the dirt should and the white line. In slow motion, I looked up in front of us to see 5 or 6 long sections of PVC pipe, airborne, guided missiles coming straight at us. The plumber whose truck this load fell off of continued on, racing away with traffic, unaware that he could have killed a cyclist, right there on one of Park City’s most travelled roads.

Apparently, Paul wobbled in the paceline because he was closest to the traffic lane, and one of the PVC pipes slid out from the rest and was dangling into our lane, whacking him in the back just fractions of a second before the whole load came off in front of us. It was because of this we were all able to react in time. Things could have turned out bad, real bad.

Needless to say: that plumber will no longer be my plumber.