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I was returning from a delivery, and was passed by two crotch rockets going about 150 mph up a blind hill intersection. A second later, I heard a crunch. The next second, I crested the hill, and slammed on my brakes coming to a stop to avoid hitting debris. One of the motorcycles hit a car that was making a turn at the intersection. It was an older Chevy Cavalier. It had been flipped around 180 degrees. The back half of the passenger side was destroyed, crushed in beyond the tire. The motorcyle, what was left of it, was sitting about 30 feet away. As I got out, with cell phone in hand, franticly trying to dial 911, I ran up to where I saw the rider. 50 ft from the car was his helmet. He lay another 150 ft from that. I've never seen a body twisted like that. He was bleeding from his head, and eyes, and mouth. His back arched in a way that was obviously unnatural. My phone couldn't reach 911. I felt very helpless. Nothing I ever learned about First Aid, CPR (I was certified), or anything had prepared me for something like this. His friend, the other cyclist, was hysterical, as was the driver of the Cavalier. I think after about a minute, a volunteer medic showed up. He used his CB to get ambulances. I called my work, to tell them that I wasn't going to be back anytime soon, and I was really shook up. One of the managers, Ed, ran down the hill after about 15 minutes to see how I was doing. My car was boxed into the scene by the ambulances and fire trucks that showed up. They cut the guy's jacket off...it looked like he was breathing...I mean, he WAS breathing. I was standing about 20 feet away and then the paramedics forced me away rudely, getting me away from the guy. After a while, it looked like they were doing CPR, and then they walked away, and got a white sheet to cover him. The girl in the Cavalier was taken to the hospital, she had a broken wrist and bruised ribs, I think. I felt so much pain, watching the guy's friend breaking down, calling his family on his cell. I sat next to the Cavalier on the curb, next to my manager, smoking his Newports, cold and shaking, imagining the terror everyone involved felt in that split second, forming the images of an accident I hadn't even witnessed. Knowing that the dead man on the side of the rode had enough time to leave a 200 ft skid mark tells me that he died afraid, spending his last second doing everything in his power to correct a mistake that cost him his life. I wondered if he was conscious as he flew through the air, hitting the ground with enough force to rip his helmet off. I wondered if he died with the fear of death on his mind. I wondered if the girl saw it coming. I wonder...too many things. After an hour went by, the police took my information, my statement and I went home.
I'm embarrassed with myself, getting this emotionally involved in an accident I wasn't part of. I'm disappointed that I acted hysterically, and not in a calm composed manner. I'm upset that I couldn't be the detached, cool individual I fantasize myself being, instead being a shocked, shivering victim in the face of death.
I will not sleep tonight. The only thing I have to be grateful about was that I wasn't moving a little faster, otherwise I would have seen it happen, and I don't want to think about where I would be with that image etched into my head. My brain is already doing a good enough job of imaging what it looked like.
I never want to see something like this again.
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