The Time I Got Evicted (Part II)

car meets bike, mike meets helmet, and a baby doll is born

Last week I wrote about my “journey of kismet,” so you’ll want to catch up by clicking here. But, for those who prefer to TLDR their way through life, you need to know that we ended with me, in 2009, at the peak of loneliness, living alone in California, at a grad writing program, with one saving grace: I lived in “my favorite apartment ever.”

To make what happened next clear, I must first backtrack to the Spring of 2008, to Portland, Oregon, where I was riding a bicycle at noon on a sunny Saturday, in a school zone, when a car ran a stop sign and hit me. This is because if I’d not worn a helmet that day, doctors say I would have died, or at the very least, become a vegetable.

Ironically, my accident occurred in America’s premiere bike-friendly city, so when I ended up in a wheelchair with many wounds, I was shocked and dismayed. But now, looking back, I view this event as necessary kismet that led me to a much better life.

I’d moved to PDX in 2005 after my band in New York broke up. But while the music scene and friends I’d engaged with were second to none, by 2008, I was tired of restaurant work and had therefore committed to a law school a few hours south (at the University of Oregon) in the fall. However, I wasn’t emotionally prepared to move. 

After all, I loved my life—especially the bicycling part. I did own a car, but I only used it once a week for groceries. The rest of the time, I pedaled, but like a fool, I never wore a helmet. Yup. I was that guy, shunning safety “cuz wind feels gud in my hair."

But that changed abruptly, when, exactly one week before the day of my accident, a merry team of us were bicycling home from the bars at night, when we saw a guy on a bike, not in our party, fail to brake in time and slam into the car ahead of him.

Did I mention that he was not wearing a helmet?

The visuals of the accident were awful, but what haunts me to this day are the sounds. I heard car brakes and bicycle tire squeals, then I heard the guy scream until that was replaced by the cruel sound of a helmet-less, human head smashing into a car window.

I ran over to the man’s limp body, but even if I were an EMT with all the equipment in the world, I don’t think he woulda made it. He was unconscious, and as I stared at the pool of blood emerging from his head, saying dumb things like, “Hang in there” and “Help is coming,” I remember feeling bad for his friends and family for their loss.

Medics soon arrived and took over, so after giving a report to a police officer, I returned to my friends at the curb where my BFF Caroline1, punched me in the arm and said, "See, you f***ing idiot! That’s why you wear a g*dd**n helmet!"

I didn't reply, as a lump in my throat and a 'welp' in my heart confirmed her message, and the very next day, I purchased a helmet and vowed to wear it every time I rode. 

And I did. 

For 6 days. 

But then, the next Saturday morning, a week to the day of that accident, the sun was bright, the weather was perfect, it was a weekend, I had fun plans and, and, and…

Here’s where this story gets weird.

I was supposed to meet friends downtown for coffee that morning, before riding home to shower, then I was going to head to a Kentucky Derby watching-party with friends.

As I got on my bike to leave for breakfast, I looked at my helmet on the rack by the door and thought, It’s early and there’s no traffic. I don’t need a helmet for this ride. I thus peddled into the street, sans helmet, when I felt a thought, like a visitor in my head.

This messenger wasn’t mean, but it was forceful as it said, Wear your helmet.

I didn’t even argue. I somehow knew it was right, so I robotically turned around, unlocked my front door, grabbed my helmet, and wore it all the way to the coffee shop.

After breakfast, the weather reached the apex of what Portland offers. The cloudless sky was a hue of blue you’d use to teach a child, and a gentle, soothing wind caressed my cheeks, begging me to ride without my helmet. So, I did what any young, brazen idiot would do. I stowed my plastic guardian in my backpack and started for home.

But then, that same weird presence entered my noggin. Stop, and put your helmet on.

I did as instructed, but with one small deviance. I’d stored my sunglasses on my head (not wearing them on my eyes), so when I put the helmet over them, the messenger said, You can’t put something sharp under a helmet. Stop, and put the helmet on correctly.

This irritated me, but I nevertheless stopped again, removed the sunglasses, fixed the helmet, then resumed my trip home to shower, change, and go to the derby party.

Moments later I entered an intersection and saw a car hurtling towards me from the right at a speed that did not indicate it would obey the stop sign just ahead of it. 

I grimaced and squeezed my brakes, but it wasn’t enough. I slammed my head into the driver’s side window, then my body rolled and I broke off the car’s side mirror with my rib cage, and then I bounced back and struck the pavement with my head, which, miraculously, was covered by a week-old helmet that I’d thrice tried not to wear.

The fallout from this was enormous. I was told I would walk again “someday,” but not for at least a year, and that I would need to live with someone to help me, now that I was in a wheel chair, peeing into a plastic cup that others had to empty for me.

This was a big deal, because I loved living alone, and I’d already told my landlord I was moving and started letting him show the apartment to prospective tenants. Oh, and this also meant I would be unable to attend my program at Oregon.

Wait…wasn’t that what I’d been secretly praying for? 

And that’s when the next great act of kismet occurred.

Enter Pepe!

….Stay Tuned.

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Joseph Khasho is a Board member of the Near Death Experience Research Foundation (NDERF), a non-profit affiliated with Dr. Jeffrey Long. NDERF aggregates and disseminates near-death experiences from all over the world. Listen here!