I was headed home down the highway this evening and found myself puttering along behind a red sedan.
All of the sudden my attention was drawn to the rear view mirror where I saw a set of headlights rushing up behind me.
A gold car swerved into the right lane at the last minute and went by so fast and so close that its breeze blew my car sideways.
I slowed down even more and was glad to be behind the sedan driving at grandma speed.
They talk about boy racers a lot in this country and I imagined that was my first time seeing one up close.
Then I remembered there was a roundabout just up the road.
This traffic device requires a reduction in speed and a careful watch for oncoming motorists.
No one needed psychic powers to see what was coming next.
Sure enough, as I approached the roundabout I saw that a car had flipped over.
There were another set of tire tracks going through the grass and at the end of them, the same gold car that had torn past me was lying in a crumpled heap in a ditch.
I saw that several people had pulled off onto the grass and were standing around. I pulled my car over to the shoulder and got out as well.
I walked toward the remains of the gold car and looked inside to see if anyone was trapped. I saw a man lying in the ditch behind the car and thought he must be dead at first.
But he was moaning and moving and a skinny man was kneeling beside him and trying to sit him up.
A few people were standing on the edge of the ditch and some said not to move the man and others said he must be moved because the car was smoking and might catch fire.
I asked some random woman standing beside me to hold my keys while I jumped down into the ditch.
Since the man had already been moved it seemed like he should be pulled away from the car in case it did catch on fire.
The man crouching beside him looked at me and said, "I've got this sorted."
"I can see that but we need to get him away from the smoking car," I said.
It was obvious that the crouching man was involved with the accident as well. He smelled of alcohol but was doing his best to keep watch over his injured friend.
At that point the injured man was sitting up so I pulled his arm around my neck and told him to lean on me. His friend took his other side and we stood him up. I asked the people standing along the edge of the ditch to help me pull him out.
Hands reach down to assist us and we were soon walking slowly away from the wreck.
The man't knees had begun to buckle so I said, "Here lay down for a minute and let's see how you're doing." I put him on his side in the recovery position and did a visual sweep for injuries. He had a gash on his head put it was only oozing a little bit. I patted down his back like I had been taught in the army to see if he was bleeding anywhere else.
I found a black hoodie laying in the grass nearby so I put it under the man's head. He was trying to spit out some grass that was stuck to his mouth so I wiped it away for him.
He was moaning and asking where he was and what had happened. I told him there had been an accident and that he was going to be okay.
I started to stoke his face and arms softly and told him not to go to sleep.
"I'm not," he said.
He seemed fairly coherent and drew up one of his legs and flexed his toes.
His friend came over and took his hand and said, "That car clipped us mate."
This was an obvious lie but I wasn't about to upset an injured man by telling his drunk companion what I thought about his driving skills.
A man who had been speaking to the emergency operators on the phone said they should be on the scene in five minutes then he laid his hand on my shoulder and said, "good job."
When the paramedics finally arrived I helped them cut away the man't shirt and roll him onto the litter. There were a few minor abrasions on his back and nothing appeared to be broken.
While they loaded him into the ambulance another woman and I compared notes on how fast the gold car had been going. Apparently they had sped by her and her husband as well.
I found a police officer and gave him my contact details and a brief statement.
He maintained most of his composure when I said that the car had passed me "doing a guhbuhjullion miles per hour" and for my part, I managed not to go full redneck and make a NASCAR analogy.
When I got home I told the NPR what hat happened and then hopped into the shower to get the blood and dirt off myself.
My white t-shirt was splattered in blood and dirt. It is beyond saving but I don't mind.
