8.3.06 kulturnatib

An accident

Bronson Avenue is the first street here I became acquainted with, next to the street that is my official vacation address. Like most tourists, or first timers, I was led to this acquaintance by the mother of invention. I was needing a bike and the way to get to the bike shops -- cheap second hands -- was through Bronson Avenue, which, on that search, I walked, perhaps, half of its length.

Bronson Avenue also intersects through Catherine Street, where the intercity bus terminal is located. Last week, I had to get to this terminal to purchase tickets, on the bike that I bought in a shop also along Catherine Street, a few blocks near the terminal.

Earlier on, I didn't think I was going to be able to do this. It was raining. The sky was a heavy overcast, and the radio predicted what we already knew. But, by midmorning, the sky had opened up, the sun peeked out and I was all too happy to hop on the bike.

I thought this was going to be a fast trip. The terminal is less than three kilometers away and getting there through Bronson Avenue was quite straightforward. But, I was slowed down.

First, there was a long line at the bus ticket counter and only two counter windows were open. Then, there was an accident.

Going into Bronson Avenue from the south east entry point is a three way intersection. Two of these roads can go right and upwards towards Bronson, but can also cross it to Slater Street.

I was approaching the slope towards this intersection at a decreased speed. The traffic light was changing. I was thinking whether to turn right to Slater or just go straight, when I heard a voice behind me, yelling, "go ahead, go ahead." The light had turned red.

I stopped.

The voice, on another bike, i found out soon enough, did not. He zoomed past me, on my right hand side, and slammed into a crossing cab, the driver of which, realizing that this other guy was zooming right through, had the look on his face that said, oh no, this guy can't be serious.

He wasn't. He only smashed the front passenger side window of the cab, dented the right side rear passenger door, caused a traffic jam, delayed my return trip but, good for him, kicked the public emergency response system into full gear. Immediately.

This included, soon after impact, a woman who had been at the corner driveway unloading stuff, who immediately went to the victim's side as he lay crumpled on the road and authoritatively instructed the others who had come around not to move him. She was also asking for someone to call 911. The driver of a metro bus that was crossing the same intersection a few seconds behind the cab, had apparently done so as soon as he saw the accident. Still, a few had their cellphones out.

While the woman continued to attend to the victim, asking if he was able to move his toes, if he had difficulty breathing, etc., the familiar sound of an approaching siren was heard. I checked my watch: 10:38. More or less five minutes after my last time check soon after the accident.

I wasn't surprised that soon an emergency vehicle came into view, but I was surprised that it was a big one. It was a fire truck with its full complement of personnel in full battle gear, as it were.

They realized that they were overmatched for the emergency at hand, but they were not totally useless. Their truck became an effective blocking vehicle making traffic control easier. Not much later, they were joined by a paramedic car, three police cars and lastly, an ambulance.

This scene is familiar to us from the movies and television but, one thing struck me as I watched this live scene. As the paramedics were attending to the victim, putting on a neck brace, strapping him onto a stretcher, etc., one of the paramedical attendants took out from the equipment box a fresh linen sheet to put over the gurney. It might not be a proven pain killer, but I bet that young man was thankful enough for that small grace.

I proceeded soon after the ambulance left and after being interviewed by a police officer who also talked to the cab driver and the bus driver as we were the closest eyewitnesses.

Accidents have a way of making one take account of one's self; I was being a careful biker, I was using the appropriate safety gear and, most important of all, I had received email from my travel agent, before I left that morning, that the extension of my insurance coverage had been approved.