Eugene S. Huckleberry — Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Not exactly a story of being doored, but here goes..

I was riding with a friend through philadelphia, May 2001. Going down walnut we came to a stoplight a block west of rittenhouse sqaure. she was on the sidewalk, i was on the street, riding the median between parked cars and traffic, which was stopped at a light. as i neared the intersection and came up to the first car waiting, mis-judged the distance bewteen the driver's side mirror and the passenger side mirror of a parked car. the handlebars locked against the mirrors and sent me flying with the bike coming down on top of me, like a windmill, 180 degrees. it was a tangled mess, my friend laughed, the expression on the face of the driver was actually quite humorous in hindsight, but they rolled down their window (they couldn't open their door as the heap of twisted metal that was my bike was in the way) and asked if i was okay, as did some people who just happend to be walking by. as it was completely my fault, there wasn't much i could do about it, and paid for a new front wheel to replace the one i had tacoed. i was pretty embarassed by the whole thing and still kind of am, but you live, you learn. usually when i ride on the streets now i'll keep an eye on parked cars three or four lenghts up, looking to see a silhouette in the rear windshield and be able to anticipate an opening door or exiting vehicle.