This morning I was on my way to work and while walking down the street I saw a man with a large glass pane crossing the road. In a matter of seconds I saw a motorbike come flying down and for the brief moment when time slowed down, I had this sinking feeling and I somehow knew something bad was about to happen. Just as my brain processed that thought, the motorbike crashed into the man as if the pedestrian was a target and the rider had hit his mark.
I, and everything around me froze, it was as if time itself had stopped and I was thrown back to when this happened, but this time I was alone and when my hand dropped from my mouth I hear myself utter “oh my god”… then I noticed the lack of movement. The lack of moment of the two involved in the accident. And the lack of moment on the part of fellow bystanders. I was the first to run out to the street, in those few paces I kept repeating “please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.” Since the glass pane man was closer to me I got there in time to help him sit up and to ask him basic questions – his name, if he was ok, if he was dizzy, who he had that I could call (his brother) … by then we were surrounded by men looking down at us and offering their comments instead of help. “The bike crashed into him” “What happened” “Make him stand up” In a stern voice I had to tell them all to shut up so I could see if the man was seriously injured, and I found beads of blood on the temple of a young man who was utterly dazed. I remember him asking, in a soft almost timid voice, “What happened to me?” “You were hit by a motorbike,” seemed so unreal, like a joke that wasn’t funny.
In those brief moments another crowd had formed around the motorcyclist, but I never found my way to him. Another guy barked at me that we were causing a jam and that we should move to the side of the road, to which I calmly said, “Dai, you don’t have to yell, I’m trying to help too.” It was only a minute later when I walked the man to a taxi that I saw the bike rider lying down in the back and the dazed man who I held by the arm was placed in the front. “I lost my mobile,” he said, but I had it in my hand and returned it to him when he was seated in the car. His brother never picked up the phone.
I didn’t make the trip to the hospital with them, I’m not sure if anyone else did. A large crowd formed, I remember a policewoman asking me if I was related to the victims, I shook my head, “The man was crossing the road, the bike sped right into him.” Finally I noticed the backed up trucks and cars honking away unaware that two men nearly died. People leaned in trying to sneak a peek at what was going on, and I walked away hoping to disperse the crowd some.
I recalled hearing the name of a hospital as I left so I called just a few minutes ago. Without knowing the name of the patients it was difficult to get any answers, but after listening to the elevator music on hold for a while I wasn’t given much detail, but it appears the men are ok and that they left the hospital earlier today.
The strangest thing? I remember every moment of the accident except for the collision itself. Try as I might, I can’t force my brain to conjure the image of the bike speeding into the man, I can’t visualize how one flew off his bike and how both were thrown in opposite directions, I don’t remember seeing the bike fall. The one thing my brain did capture was the glass pane. It didn’t shatter and erupt; it crumbled in pieces and fell like a slipping curtain.
I hope they’re okay.