"Accidents will happen"
I hit a cyclist. I was turning right into a road and I hit him. I didn't see him: of course I didn't see otherwise I'd have missed him.
There was a loud crunch, screams from passers by and my blood ran cold. I jumped out of the car and rushed round to see what damage I'd done. I don't think I thought I'd killed him but I imagined someone lying in the road bleeding. He wasn't. He was on the pavement hopping around and the back wheel of his bike was seriously ruined.
I ran up to him and re-assured him it was my fault and he'd need a new bike. He was a Rastafarian, and spoke in a patois I had real difficulty understanding. He wasn't hurt except for his shin and he was more concerned about his bike and how he'd get home. I gave him my name and mobile number. He gave me his name and date of birth.
I asked him where he lived, he said Leyton and that he was going to pick up something for a car. I said I'd take him there. We managed to get his bike with its mangled back wheel in the car: he would stop and sigh, muttering about his bike and the mangled wheel.
We headed towards Tottenham. I had no money, no card, no phone on me - why would I I was just going to the local recycling dump when I hit him. Conversation was limited, but I managed to understand his directions towards Tottenham Hale then on the road out toward Tottenham. A number of false turns ended in dead ends which worried me not knowing the area and I thought, uncharitably, he was leading me to a high jack!
We were near IKEA on the North Circular when there was this god almighty bang. I swear I thought the Yardies were after us, or the car behind at the lights had shunted us. My friend exclaimed " The rear tyre had blown". We both laughed with relief.
After numerous false starts we arrived at this really run down industrial estate - where there was this car spares part store. I parked up and I joined him as he asked for glass for a car's half light. He had an Astra just like mine. While he was waiting he phoned someone and I heard him explain what had happened. no he was ok and I was a good guy. I asked him if I could use his phone and phoned my wife to explain why a short trip to the municipal dump was taking so long. He asked if he could speak to my wife and had a short conversation reassuring her that both he and I were alright.
As we left the car parts place he said he was a motor mechanic and money wasn't important - love was. I took him to another repair place which being closed annoyed him - people should be working. I thought I was taking him, his smashed up bike and the replacement glass to Leyton - but no to Homerton.
On the way he told me he was born in Nottingham, had eight children, all except one in the States and Canada. I commented on how the areas we drove through had changed and he talked about God being good and love was all, money wasn't important!
"You know the way, man" as we headed for Homerton: I told him I'd lived there years ago. Off Homerton High Street we ended up parked next to a modern block of flats. He got out of the car and called a white guy over. There was a black church nearby and a couple of the congregation asked my man about some business he was to do for them. He said it'll be sorted. The white guy wheeled over a decent bicycle and said he had to sell it because of his prostrate cancer operation. He couldn't ride it.
My guy looked at the bike and then tried it riding up and down. He liked it and the white guy said he'd sell it for £100. I said I'd no money or card on me. No problem he went to his flat and brought down his debit card. I took down the details and his name on the card assuring him that I'd transfer
the £100 within the hour.
I shook hands with my Rasta friend and the white guy, but not before learning that he'd lived in the same road as me in Homerton.
I drove to the dump before I went home and gingerly parked up my car. I explained to my wife what had happened. I immediately made a bank transfer of £100.
It was a strange adventure. Yet I met a really lovely guy and his friends. I certainly will have to re- think my views of Rastafarians.
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