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The car came out of nowhere. It was 4:00 p.m. on Halloween, and the traffic near the Holland Tunnel was shimmering in the afternoon haze.[1] I was on my bike, minding my own business in the far lane, when I saw the black Mazda heading straight at me.[2] Crash! That’s it, I thought, my leg will be crushed into a thousand pieces. Fortunately, the car was slung low, so instead of mowing me down,[3] it pushed my bike out from under me. I landed on the hood with a thud.[4] “You ran the light!” the driver screamed from his window. He didn’t even get out of the car. I was glaring at him through the windshield when I heard a voice from the curb. “No, he didn’t,” came the authoritative baritone.[5] “You hit him. I saw the whole thing.” Spider-Man climbed off his bike and walked over to peel me off the hood. “Thanks, Spidey,”[6] I told him, as though this were the most normal scene in the world. “Your crankshaft is shot, man,” said the superhero, dusting off his leotard.[7] “He was going like 25 miles an hour. I’ll be your eyewitness.” I tried to get the cop nearby to file a report,[8] but he claimed not to have seen a thing. So Spider-Man and I made our way over to the police station, where I filled out the paperwork that would eventually force the driver to replace my bike. I thanked Spidey for his efforts, but he demurred, muttering something about “biker solidarity” and setting off on his bicycle to catch up with the Halloween parade.[9] | 
