That night

Ugh.
Finally he felt like something was happening in his life. It wasn't exactly the thought you'd expect him to have in this situation- ablood trickling down the side of his temple and his leg dragging reluctantly behind the rest of him. No, it wasn't, but heck, it was different. It was also a miserable reflection of what his life was like, or what his mind was like; that he recognised this absurdity with some relish. At the very least, though, it took his mind off what had just happened.

These would have been his thoughts, had he let them surface to the...well, surface:

There is something positively unsettling, especially in hindsight, about how everything seems to happen in slow motion when you are astride a 180cc motorbike and you see a 1600cc luxury sedan speeding towards you. You look on helplessly, inevitably, knowingly, numbly. Then you somehow miss the best part, the climax, when the (by now behemoth-ish) car, it's tyres screeching redundantly, comes careening into you. You miss the actual impact, the Hollywood effect thingy probably happens, and you have an indistinct impression of the bike blowing out from under your legs. Then the slow motion is back as the road first goes far away, and then, as gravity does its thing, you head back toward the white stripe. Distant headlights remind you that getting back on the ground might not be the best thing.
but then you dont havB a choice.

Anion had hit the ground and then realised his body had prepared for the fall-knees curling up like a baby, body twisting wildly to avoid a direct impact. Then there was nothing, briefly. He did not pass out, but there were few moments that were definitely missing from his timeline. When they were over, he saw stars first. No, real stars. It was 3am, and he had a vague idea that the sedan had stopped about 50 metres ahead, engine still running, as if poised to disappear. It's dark windows revealed nothing.