The Accident
“Are you… Shige?”
Someone called out to me.
In the evenings, I used to meet up with her. I was still a student, but she was two years older and already working. Every day after school, I would go to meet her at her workplace on Wakamiya-Oji in Kamakura, time it with her finishing work, have dinner at a restaurant along the coast, and then take her home. That day, like always, I went to pick her up after school.
But instead of her, it was one of her colleagues who showed up at our usual meeting spot across from her workplace.
“This morning, Hiroe was in an accident. She’s been admitted to Suzuki Hospital in Shichirigahama,” she said.
The moment I heard the word “accident,” I panicked and rushed over to my bike, not even thinking to ask about the severity of her injuries. I kicked down on the starter. The road was one lane in each direction, and I watched for a break in the cars coming from the right on the main road. As soon as there was a gap, I revved the engine high and released the clutch. Swinging in a wide arc to the right, I shot into the street, a car speeding toward me from the opposite direction. I glanced over my left shoulder, weaving through the gaps between the raised lane markers on the centerline, and squeezed back into my lane.
I passed by the first Torii gate of Kamakura and continued toward the coastal road. Traffic was slow with cars parked along the shoulder and a line of vehicles ahead, so I carefully slipped between them, moving along the Shonan coastline. In the distance, I saw the signal at the T-intersection with National Route 134 turn red. On instinct, I made a right turn at the signal just before the main road, then slipped onto Route 134 from a side street without a signal.
Today, I wasn’t on my usual TZR but on an RZV500. This large 2-stroke bike that I wasn’t used to riding easily got out of control, and the front wheel lifted with hardly any effort.
Once I got onto Route 134, the engine’s low hum turned into a high-pitched whine, and every time I accelerated, the front wheel rose, and the speedometer needle swung to the right.
Since I was in the seaside lane of the coastal highway, I didn’t have to worry about cars turning left in front of me or pulling out from side streets. I flew past cars to my left at an overwhelming speed. As I was about to catch up with a motorcycle ahead of me on the shoulder, I saw an opening and moved to the right, narrowly avoiding the rear bumper of the car in front of me.
At the base of the hill, I made a sharp left turn, accelerating hard, then braking. I made a right turn at the city pool, and again accelerated at full throttle.
Whenever there was the slightest gap in traffic, I shifted aggressively through third and fourth gears, pushing the bike to its limits. Even when I caught up to the car ahead, I braked at the last possible moment, just inches away. I took the gentle right curve at Inamuragasaki, climbing the hill that cuts through the base of the cape. The road made another right-hand curve at the center of the cut, leading to a descent.
With cliffs towering on both sides, the narrow road at Inamuragasaki limited my visibility at this speed, so I eased off the throttle, downshifted, and applied a bit more pressure to the brake lever as I navigated the cut.
Once I passed Inamuragasaki, it was only about 2 kilometers left. I flew down the gentle slope, the bike’s high-pitched exhaust echoing along the open coastline.
When I rushed into the hospital room, Hiroe burst into tears as soon as she saw me. I couldn’t help it; tears welled up in my eyes, and suddenly my knees started to shake…