I still haven’t gotten used to driving this windy road, she thought to herself, sitting in the back of a twisting and turning minivan was starting to turn her stomach. When did this happen? She used to read in the car with no problems. Time takes it’s toll on all, I guess. She sits, pondering at once her own mortality and the scoop of ice cream waiting for her at the bottom of the road when…
A motorcycle goes speeding by, passing on the narrow two-lane highway as if there were room to spare. It had the high pitched, quick frequency of a vacuum cleaner when it gets stuck on thick carpet. The sound alone put shivers on her shine, but the narrow gap with which it missed the car and the played with the dirt past the asphalt incited goosebumps, first on her shoulders then rushing down her arms. “God, I hope that person doesn’t get hurt….”
Around another bend, by now, 5 minutes past; the motorcycle all but forgotten underneath the thought of the way the wind smells and the way to accomplish tomorrow…. arms wave.
Pulling to the side, there’s barely time to look down at the faces of the two precious girls sitting in the seat in front of her and be grateful, as she vaults over them and runs to the road. Her friends run too.
Both broken. She kneels next to the puppy, probably no older than one year, and sees in her eyes that she does not understand this pain. Her leg is broken, she heaves, but still; time for a welcome kiss on the face. Her owner lies close to the side of the road. She is assisted; stay awake, don’t go to sleep. All the girl sees is Sophie. She gets her, gently, and takes her to the side of the road. Pain is evident but she still seems to only care about the strange human girl’s, licking the salty tears off her face, leaving traces of blood behind. She is putting her own hurt second, and healing the girl’s; the way dogs do. This thought just takes her to her knees, crying at the thought of a creature so inherently selfless, and wondering why humans can’t all be the same. “Why am I not the same?” she thinks. She lets the dog comfort her. The dog tries to get to her feet to arrange her body against hers. Her brother, a bigger dog, not hit, comes and sits in front of them both, blocking the road. He is concerned.
“So am I.”
Flashing lights. Helicopter.
The motorcycle. So fast it hit a woman and a dog on the side of the road, skid, and only a for a second stopped to look back at the mayhem before riding off, even quicker; pumping blood now seeping through wounded skin. She remembers seeing his shirt flying up; he didn’t have rash guard; he’s hurt. He has to be. His side mirror still lays in the road. It’s green.
She no longer cares about his safety, or his pain.
Emergency care all around; the woman has a long recovery, but at least she has one to make;
My friend and I held paws and cried as the dog took it’s last breath. She shouldn’t have to be alone in this pain and ending she does not understand.
I feel the weight of anger. How can humans be so terrible to one another? I know I haven’t be completely innocent in this life either; and I know this isn’t the worst injustice ever; but I hurt.
Whether he’s a man who had a bad day, or just a bad man; I don’t know. I do know that either way, I hope the guilt eats him alive. I hope it drives him to confession, and I hope he does his best to make it right.
I bet this is how Batman felt; and I decide that I can forgive his terrible voice after all. It’s interesting what a difference makes experience over only opinion.
I think the dueling points of view in the piece above should tell you three things:
1. This is a personal, real story that it too personal, and too real, and almost impossible to tell in the first person without feeling so intimate, feeling naked. But it’s also hard to not tell in that way; so alas, a mixture.
2. I took my last English class long ago
3. I am not a trained writer.
But nevertheless, it’s true, and it’s painful; and while I, too, enjoy the freedom of riding on two wheels, for the love of God, be safe… If not for your own sake, for the sake of the lives that crisscross your own.
Unrelated; photos of a band that has been around so long, they can truly be considered professionals. Masters of their instruments and well-versed in the art of entertainment; everything a live show should be. I present to you: 311, live in Irvine, CA.