The boy in the road
I drove very slowly to work today. I looked twice in the side mirrors before turning, checking my blind spot whenever appropriate. I gave way, I slowed down. I repeatedly got beeped at, but that does not concern me anymore. I don't want to be that boy in the road.
Yesterday, on Sunday, I drove Gro and her friend Marius who is visiting from Norway down to Cape Point. It was a beautiful day, but there was a feeling. I don't know. I almost scraped the side of my car driving to pick them up to go. Gro had her wallet stolen in town the night before. A friend who also lives in Gro's road was out by her car sweeping up broken glass deposited there by somebody who had smashed her window to steal nothing more than a few CDs.
It felt like one of those days.
Still, even when there are ominous signs around, the beauty of the peninsula soothes you. This place truly is one of the most beautiful places on earth. I'll post some pictures soon. It's the contradiction of the place, which bugs you out of your mind. Everything is lovely, warm, pleasant. Until something happens.
The thing about the sheer cliffs and dramatic nature is that the roads are all but straightforward to negotiate. Often you have a drop on one side, and a cliff on the other. Sometimes the speed limit is 90 kph on these roads. I can't drive 70 on them, nor could Marius who was co-pilot on this 4 hour trek south and back.
We were driving pretty conscienciously through the reserve, as a huge 4X4 pick up truck - the kind that you'll see rednecks drive when they go out to hund deer or something - overtooks us at an insane speed before disappearing around a bend. We slowed down, and followed. Then things happened very quickly.
In front of us, the bend was blocked by two things. One was the pick-up truck, all but unrecognisable, its entire front smashed in, petrol gushing out across the road and smoke coming out the back. It had careered into a large tourist bus - not a normal bus, but a heavy thing that looked like it could charge an elephant - and which had only been pushed a metre or so sideways by the impact.
We screeched to a halt. In time. Behind, people followed suit. I don't know how close we were to each other behind the speeding car. But I am inclined to think that the fact that we were keeping a sensible speed limit at the front of this slight tailback may have saved us all from a serious serial collision.
The first thing you want to do when you are metres away from a car that gushes petrol and smoke is to reverse. There was a car behind, so we couldn't. Instead we all got out and watched. The people in the car behind were not so taken aback. Presumably, they've seen more accidents like this. A group of men ran up to the totalled car, helped out the driver, the person in the passenger seat who had what seemed like a leg injury.
And then they pulled out the boy.
According to the people who had been on the bus, the boy had not worn a seatbelt. He was bleeding profusely from lacerations to his face. Somebody found blankets, a first aid kit, even a woman with medical training. But nothing could stop the fact that at first, the kid was making noises. And then he wasn't.
It took the ambulance over 30 minutes to get there. We all had to double back, eventually, seeking another way out of the cape point nature reserve across dirt tracks and potholes. I had left my details with the policeman, as I can testify to the driver of the truck speeding.
I have no idea what happened to the boy. These things don't reach even the local news.
What strikes you is the pointlessness of it all. What would the driver have gained? Two minutes? And what may he have lost?
And all the memories flood back to you about the times that you went into a bend a bit too fast. maybe you veered slighly into the lane that - luckily- was empty of oncoming traffic. Maybe the wheels just kept you on the road. Maybe you came out of a junction and didn't see the motorcyclist until the very last minute. Maybe you accellerated unneccessarily down a steep hill because it made you feel alive. Maybe you were trying to impress the person with you in the car.
All those moments when your heart stopped. And you think, god that was close. And then you keep going. And do it again. And there's just too many of them to count. Or even to control. Who do we think we are, risking not only our own lives but those of our passengers, our fellow motorists, pedestrians. And you feel, when you see something like we did yesterday, so stupid. So juvenile. I mean, don't we ever grow up?
So I braked today. Let them beep.
Yesterday, on Sunday, I drove Gro and her friend Marius who is visiting from Norway down to Cape Point. It was a beautiful day, but there was a feeling. I don't know. I almost scraped the side of my car driving to pick them up to go. Gro had her wallet stolen in town the night before. A friend who also lives in Gro's road was out by her car sweeping up broken glass deposited there by somebody who had smashed her window to steal nothing more than a few CDs.
It felt like one of those days.
Still, even when there are ominous signs around, the beauty of the peninsula soothes you. This place truly is one of the most beautiful places on earth. I'll post some pictures soon. It's the contradiction of the place, which bugs you out of your mind. Everything is lovely, warm, pleasant. Until something happens.
The thing about the sheer cliffs and dramatic nature is that the roads are all but straightforward to negotiate. Often you have a drop on one side, and a cliff on the other. Sometimes the speed limit is 90 kph on these roads. I can't drive 70 on them, nor could Marius who was co-pilot on this 4 hour trek south and back.
We were driving pretty conscienciously through the reserve, as a huge 4X4 pick up truck - the kind that you'll see rednecks drive when they go out to hund deer or something - overtooks us at an insane speed before disappearing around a bend. We slowed down, and followed. Then things happened very quickly.
In front of us, the bend was blocked by two things. One was the pick-up truck, all but unrecognisable, its entire front smashed in, petrol gushing out across the road and smoke coming out the back. It had careered into a large tourist bus - not a normal bus, but a heavy thing that looked like it could charge an elephant - and which had only been pushed a metre or so sideways by the impact.
We screeched to a halt. In time. Behind, people followed suit. I don't know how close we were to each other behind the speeding car. But I am inclined to think that the fact that we were keeping a sensible speed limit at the front of this slight tailback may have saved us all from a serious serial collision.
The first thing you want to do when you are metres away from a car that gushes petrol and smoke is to reverse. There was a car behind, so we couldn't. Instead we all got out and watched. The people in the car behind were not so taken aback. Presumably, they've seen more accidents like this. A group of men ran up to the totalled car, helped out the driver, the person in the passenger seat who had what seemed like a leg injury.
And then they pulled out the boy.
According to the people who had been on the bus, the boy had not worn a seatbelt. He was bleeding profusely from lacerations to his face. Somebody found blankets, a first aid kit, even a woman with medical training. But nothing could stop the fact that at first, the kid was making noises. And then he wasn't.
It took the ambulance over 30 minutes to get there. We all had to double back, eventually, seeking another way out of the cape point nature reserve across dirt tracks and potholes. I had left my details with the policeman, as I can testify to the driver of the truck speeding.
I have no idea what happened to the boy. These things don't reach even the local news.
What strikes you is the pointlessness of it all. What would the driver have gained? Two minutes? And what may he have lost?
And all the memories flood back to you about the times that you went into a bend a bit too fast. maybe you veered slighly into the lane that - luckily- was empty of oncoming traffic. Maybe the wheels just kept you on the road. Maybe you came out of a junction and didn't see the motorcyclist until the very last minute. Maybe you accellerated unneccessarily down a steep hill because it made you feel alive. Maybe you were trying to impress the person with you in the car.
All those moments when your heart stopped. And you think, god that was close. And then you keep going. And do it again. And there's just too many of them to count. Or even to control. Who do we think we are, risking not only our own lives but those of our passengers, our fellow motorists, pedestrians. And you feel, when you see something like we did yesterday, so stupid. So juvenile. I mean, don't we ever grow up?
So I braked today. Let them beep.
posted by Linda at 10:14
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