On a Saturday in 2020, I biked into Haleiwa — a small town on the North Shore of Oahu. I mailed prints of my art. I bought a rose quartz for my girlfriend. I headed home. A black truck was leaving the gas station to my left. It wasn’t moving. I rode on. I saw the driver looking to his left, checking for cars. The truck advanced into the side of my bike’s back wheel. I put my right foot down on the street. The truck stopped moving. I got off the bike, walking it ahead. “Are you okay?” said the driver, looking out his window.