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unsettling (uhn•set•ling), adj.: Looking up while biking to see a car coming towards you with its tires squealing and its nose pointing in a different direction from its velocity vector.
This particular car was a Ford Focus that had just clipped another car's fender. As I pedaled out of the way (all of this happening in slow motion) the Focus twitched, nearly rolled, overcorrected, and stopped itself suddenly by wrapping its front end around a concrete lamppost. The driver was having trouble opening her door; I ran over and was able to wrench it open. Fluid was dripping from the mangled engine; it looked like antifreeze, and I didn't smell gasoline, but I was keen to get everybody out as quickly as possible. There was a scared-looking boy in the back seat, clutching a drawing he'd done in scribbly marker. I opened the rear door, asked him if he was okay, and extricated him from his seatbelt. Blood was spilling down the face of the other back-seat passenger, the boy's mother. I thought she'd bloodied her nose, but she'd lost her front teeth. She was holding one in her palm, root and all, a long spur of ivory like a guitar bridge pin. The front passenger-side passenger seemed okay, but as she only spoke Spanish it was hard to tell.
The driver called 911, but she was too flustered to talk to them. She thrust the phone at me, and I gave them the location and a description of the passengers and injuries. Someone came out of his house with paper towels and glasses of water; someone else sat down with the injured woman, who was crying and howling, and tried to calm her down. Fortunately, this happened across the street from St. Elizabeth's Hospital; firetrucks and police were there in minutes, and ambulances just after. There was a ballet of bodyboards and straps and neck braces, and then everyone was swept away like nothing had happened, leaving only the wreck of the car and a listing telephone pole. I think everyone will be okay; the boy had a bump on his head, and the driver will have some bruising from the steering wheel, but the most serious injury was dental.
If I'd left my house thirty seconds earlier, I might never have known any of this happened. Ten seconds earlier, and I might've been caught between the cars. As it was, I was able to be first on the scene, and make myself mildly useful.
This particular car was a Ford Focus that had just clipped another car's fender. As I pedaled out of the way (all of this happening in slow motion) the Focus twitched, nearly rolled, overcorrected, and stopped itself suddenly by wrapping its front end around a concrete lamppost. The driver was having trouble opening her door; I ran over and was able to wrench it open. Fluid was dripping from the mangled engine; it looked like antifreeze, and I didn't smell gasoline, but I was keen to get everybody out as quickly as possible. There was a scared-looking boy in the back seat, clutching a drawing he'd done in scribbly marker. I opened the rear door, asked him if he was okay, and extricated him from his seatbelt. Blood was spilling down the face of the other back-seat passenger, the boy's mother. I thought she'd bloodied her nose, but she'd lost her front teeth. She was holding one in her palm, root and all, a long spur of ivory like a guitar bridge pin. The front passenger-side passenger seemed okay, but as she only spoke Spanish it was hard to tell.
The driver called 911, but she was too flustered to talk to them. She thrust the phone at me, and I gave them the location and a description of the passengers and injuries. Someone came out of his house with paper towels and glasses of water; someone else sat down with the injured woman, who was crying and howling, and tried to calm her down. Fortunately, this happened across the street from St. Elizabeth's Hospital; firetrucks and police were there in minutes, and ambulances just after. There was a ballet of bodyboards and straps and neck braces, and then everyone was swept away like nothing had happened, leaving only the wreck of the car and a listing telephone pole. I think everyone will be okay; the boy had a bump on his head, and the driver will have some bruising from the steering wheel, but the most serious injury was dental.
If I'd left my house thirty seconds earlier, I might never have known any of this happened. Ten seconds earlier, and I might've been caught between the cars. As it was, I was able to be first on the scene, and make myself mildly useful.
