Dad of cyclist hit by car: 'It's a matter of Rod & God' (column)

One of the first times Rod Myers rode a bike without training wheels, his dad was running beside him, balancing him, and when his father released his grip, Rod rode right into a bush.

He was about 4 or so then. His mother said he was always going 90 mph, from the day he was born. Just the way he was. Always moving. Always doing something.

He played football in high school, a tight end and long snapper, for Red Land. His senior year, the team won the Capital Area Conference title. He also played some tennis in school. He was a skier, loved skiing. He'd also done some motocross riding when he was younger.

But it wasn't until he got into cycling that he really found himself.

The story is that some friends who were into cycling invited him to go for a ride with them one day back in the late '80s or early '90s. His friends were geared up – wearing cycling shorts and shoes and helmets. Rod showed up wearing a ball cap, jeans and sneakers. His one friend said Rod kicked their butts that day. He was a natural athlete – and a competitive guy.

He started training and competing. In four years, he moved through the racing classes and achieved "pro" status.

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His riding friends called him "Rodzilla." He was a beast on the bike, for one thing, and for another, at 6-3 and depending on the stages of his conditioning, between 180 and 200 pounds, he was bigger than most of the people he rode with. He was always easy to pick out on the racing course, his father said. He was almost always the biggest guy.

He joined the Navigator Cycling Team, sponsored by a marine insurance company, and competed in races all over, including the Olympic time trials in Atlanta in 1995. In 1990, one of his teammates, a schoolteacher, was killed when he was hit by a car cycling home from school.

He competed individually, too, racing against professional cyclists. He was one of the few competing at that level who had a day job – working as a sales engineer for his family refrigeration and air conditioning business. He rode in the Philadelphia International Championship, the richest and most prestigious one-day cycling race outside of Europe, and the longest, at 156 miles. Greg LeMonde competed in the race, as did Lance Armstrong, whose professional career began after he won it in 1993. Rod finished in the top 50 among 200 riders.

It was more than the competition. He just loved riding. It changed his life. He quit smoking. He ate well, cut out the junk food, often chastising his parents when they snacked. Riding was a release. When he had a rough day, he could take off on his bike and leave his troubles on the road.

You could see it, his mother said. He would go for 30- or 40-mile rides on his lunch break at work, and when he'd come back to the office, housed in the remodeled home he grew up in in Fairview Township, near the Army depot, you could see it, his mother said. He was relaxed. He was happy.

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He would think nothing of taking off after work and doing 30 or 40 miles. He rode between 7,000 and 10,000 miles a year.

And that's what he was doing when the accident occurred.

He had just left the office, riding south on York Road toward Normandy Drive. He took a right on Normandy, heading west. The road doesn't have much of a shoulder. He was always cautious about that, very fussy about safety. He had had close calls with cars before, been run off the road and wound up in a ditch. He had broken his collarbone twice and had his share of road rash.

This time, though, as soon as he turned, a westbound car struck him. The driver told the police later that he was driving right into the sun and didn't see Rod. The first time he saw him, he told the cops, was when he hit his windshield.

Rod landed in the road's eastbound lanes. The driver of the car, who worked at the depot, stayed by his side until the ambulance arrived.

It was about 5:30 p.m. or so, on April 13, a Wednesday.

At about the same time, his parents were with another couple, just leaving their office to go to Hershey to go out to dinner. They heard the sirens and thought nothing of it. Later, as the drove north through New Cumberland, an ambulance pulled behind them with its lights and siren on. The driver pulled over and let the ambulance pass, and they followed the ambulance all the way to Hershey.

Rod was in that ambulance.

His father had silenced his phone during dinner, and when he turned it back on, there were text messages from Rod's girlfriend.

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Rod, she texted, had been in an accident. He was at Hershey Medical Center.

Rod hadn't been carrying any ID. The police were able to access his phone, and the last number he called was his girlfriend's. Rod had been admitted to Hershey as "John Doe."

Rod was in dire shape. He had a broken scapula, a broken collarbone, four broken ribs, a damaged lung, a broken femur, both of his ankles fractured, a broken fourth vertebra and head injuries that caused damage to his brain. He had surgery that night to relieve the swelling in his brain. An MRI showed significant brain damage.

He has remained in a coma since that day. If he comes out of it, the doctors aren't sure what kind of condition he'd be in. That he's survived at all – he's had six major surgeries since he's been in the hospital – is a testament to the kind of shape he is in. He is 52, and the doctors said he had the body of a man 20 years younger.

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He had a living will, and he always said that if he couldn't live life as he wanted, he would rather just fade away. His parents and the rest of the family have been grappling with that. They don't know what to do. If there is a chance Rod can come back, they want to hang on. The doctor told them that they could have a long, long haul ahead of them. He is currently in the acute care unit at Holy Spirit Hospital in Camp Hill.

In an instant, life changed.

His son graduates from high school next week. He won't get to see it. His friends miss him. They visit. The cycling community has rallied to his side. That first Sunday in the hospital, the waiting room was packed as 20 or 30 of his friends stopped by to visit. His parents grapple with maintaining his life – arguing with banks and trying to keep his bills current – as they grapple with what to do, and what would Rod want them to do.

"It's just a matter of taking one day at a time," his father, Harold, said. "It's a matter of Rod and God."

Mike Argento's column appears Mondays and Fridays in Living and Sundays in Viewpoints. Reach him at (717) 771-2046 or at mike@ydr.com. 

York Daily Record - Mike Argento

To help 

Rod Myers' family has established a GoFundMe page to raise money to help pay medical expenses. For more information, visit https://www.gofundme.com/rodmyers.