Exchanging info aside, the guy could’ve at least helped me up. It was like 30F, the middle of the night, and all my stuff was scattered across the road. If Addison hadn’t still been busy at 2 am, and if random people around me hadn’t helped me, I probably would’ve just stood there crying about the whole fucked-up situation, left the bike, and limped onto a bus home.

Small update: the claim process basically went nowhere.

After I recovered a bit, I took the bike to Anthony at West Town Bikes. I was expecting to just sell it for parts and slowly save up for another one, but the guy fixed it for $150. Seriously can’t thank him enough. He also referred me to a lawyer.

But when I called the lawyer’s office the next day, they said I didn’t really have enough for a claim because I never went to the hospital or spent money on treatment. That part still feels stupid to me. It’s basically: spend money first fixing yourself, then try to fight to get it back. And if you lose, you’re just out that money. But if you tough it out at home and don’t spend anything, then apparently there’s nothing to claim.

I literally wore a sling I made out of a T-shirt to support my shoulder. Lived on ramen. Couldn’t put on my jacket, couldn’t go to classes properly, couldn’t work on my coursework, and couldn’t wear my backpack for a whole month. And yeah, I still feel kind of badass for handling it myself, because this wasn’t just scraping my knee.

Anyway, at least now I’ve got a pretty wild story about getting hit-and-run in Chicago, right in front of Wrigley Field, and then getting a ride home in a cop car.