The man sat on the curb, head in hands, eyes tightly closed as if trying to prevent the scene before him from entering his mind. He screamed “No, no, no!!”, refusing to believe what had just happened. Despite his attempts, the images played out like a grotesque flicker book. He felt the tears streaming down his face as he pressed into his eyes, a futile attempt to push the mental cinema from his brain. His body shook with each sob, silently praying that this was all a nightmare.
A stuffed panda lay in a puddle of coolant and gasoline, button eyes staring as if traumatised from what it had just witnessed. The emergency lights illuminated its reflection in the fluid, its apparent horror magnified with every strobe. A blue minivan lay on its roof, belly exposed for the world to see. The back wheels spun lazily, squeaking eerily with each rotation. Jagged metal pushed into where the mother and child had sat, a concave imprint of another vehicle stamped into the frame. A woman’s arm hung limply from under the white side impact airbags, as if draped by a mortician.
The child’s scream rattled around the man’s head, “mommy, mommy mommy!” as they slowly faded into nothing. He wondered if her mother had heard her daughter’s cries before she took her own last breath. He cried even louder, trying to drown out the voices that were now playing over and over in his head. Bright light pushed into his eyelids, blinding as he reluctantly opened them to see the source. An approaching Highway Patrol vehicle came to a stop, fending off traffic to further protect the macabre scene.
The patrolman walked over to the Paramedics who were frantically performing CPR on a blood soaked man, lying on the glass covered asphalt. The glass crunched as the EMT pumped on the man’s chest whilst his partner fought to slide a tube down the lifeless man’s throat.
“Is that the driver that hit them?” He asked.
“No,” said the medic, “this is the father.”
“Do we know who was driving the other car?” said the officer?
“Yes.” The Medic replied. “The man on the Curb”.
In my career I’ve lost count of the number of “men and women on the curb”. Wailing with tears of self pity, after putting the importance of a drink or text reply before the lives of a family they had just snuffed out. What is heartbreaking is that all of these accidents were preventable. All of them! I’ve never been on a true “Act of God” event like the San Francisco earthquake or Thai Tsunami. The lives I’ve seen snatched in 15 years as a firefighter were all due to selfish acts of human arrogance.
Early in my career this was more likely to be alcohol related but now the distraction of smartphones seems to be catching up fast as the underlying cause of vehicular homicide. The thought that an Instagram post or text emoji would be more important than a human life seems insane, but that’s exactly what is happening. A pity party is not going to bring back the lives they took. We lost almost 40,000 people in 2018, steadily climbing in the last ten years. It is up to us, the people, to change this epidemic of road deaths.
Call an Uber if you plan to drink, leave the phone alone while you drive, use your blinker, keep a safe distance from the car in front and slow down when conditions are bad. We are literally in the driving seat to address this issue. Over 3000 people die everyday worldwide from fatal road accidents. Choose wisely today.
Don’t be the man on the curb.
James
You can find some amazing minds discussing this topic with me on The Behind the Shield Podcast.
The Weeping Man by David Robinson
Car Sculpture by Dirk Skreber