I saved a man’s life today. He was facing certain death, or at the very least, some serious bruising. It was only because of my quick, decisive actions that he walked away unscathed. He also walked away unappreciative.
My harrowing adventure began one afternoon on my way home from work. I had to pick up a few things from the supermarket for dinner, and I was driving through the parking lot at the store. Right in front of the main entrance there is a wide area with not one, but two clearly marked crosswalks. Just past that is a row of parking spaces adjacent to the sidewalk.
I was just passing the second crosswalk when a man lurched out from between two cars that were parked on my left.
Because of my alertness and cat-like reflexes, I braked and was completely stopped before the guy even saw me. By then he was directly in my path, about three feet away from a painful, undignified demise.
He seemed genuinely startled as he glanced my way. But he quickly looked away from me and disappeared into the parking lot.
He simply walked away, his expression suggesting only minor irritation that I had invaded his personal space. Had he not realized that he almost died? Didn't he know that I had just saved his life?
I didn’t expect a reward from this guy, his undying gratitude, or even a hug. I would simply have liked some acknowledgement that he knows I saved his life. Even a gesture of ‘I’m sorry” would have been appropriate. After all, if I had killed him, it would have ruined my afternoon, not his.
You know what really pisses me off? It’s when someone intentionally walks into my path to cross the road, and he pretends that he doesn’t see me coming so I’ll have to stop for him. He is trusting his life to a total stranger, one who could be distracted and not even know he’s there.
I am an alert, careful, courteous driver. I do see you, and I know you see me. I would have stopped for you anyway. This time.
But this guy simply did not look. He really hadn’t seen me.
He had probably just left the store through the main entrance…right between the two crosswalks. Those crosswalks are close enough together that I would consider the space between them also safe to cross. Many people cross there. All together it’s about 40 feet of crossing area, right at the front entrance. It is almost as if the guy intentionally avoided the crosswalks, then chose the most dangerous place to enter a traffic lane—at the most inopportune time.
Do you remember what your parents taught you, and what you hopefully taught your own kids? “Stop! Look both ways. Cross when it is safe.” Those rules don’t change when you become adults. Those rules aren’t suspended in parking lots. Failure to observe those little precautions can be fatal.I always keep an eye out for pedestrians when I drive, but one will occasionally surprise me. He wasn’t there when I looked, then BAM! There he is. In a parking lot, cars and pedestrians can be anywhere, and there are seemingly no rules guiding their speed, path, or direction.
Pedestrians: Be alert! Streets are made primarily for automobile traffic. You may cross those streets, but you must do so legally and cautiously.
When a pedestrian is smacked by a car in the street, 99% of the time it’s the pedestrian’s fault. It’s a simple concept. A car weighs over 20 times what I weigh. If there is an encounter, it’s 4000 pounds of unyielding, solid steel against 180 pounds of squishy flesh and brittle bones. Naturally, the pedestrian loses every time. Physics 101.
A car can be a lethal weapon. Its driver bears a tremendous responsibility to operate it safely. But I will not trust my life to any driver. Not for an instant. As a driver, I know how easy it is to get distracted.
When I’m walking, the green pedestrian light gives me the right of way to cross the street at an intersection. Legally, yes, but I can’t take it for granted. I won’t depend on it. Not if I want to live. I am still at the mercy of a potentially distracted, careless, or blinded-by-the-sun driver behind the wheel of a 4,000-pound behemoth. All I know for certain is that there is a car. I don’t know if it is intelligently controlled.
When my light turns green, I need to make sure all cars are stopped before I cautiously proceed. And I still need to stay alert to any sign of danger until I reach relative safety on the curb across the street. Even if fully stopped, any one of those cars could start moving again at any time, regardless of where I am. It’s my life that’s at risk. It’s my responsibility.
How many times have you seen a pedestrian waiting at an intersection, and as soon as the light turns green, he starts to cross the street? He doesn’t even wait to make sure cars are stopping. He’s wearing his ear buds, bopping to the beat, or texting, or talking on his phone, totally oblivious to the ever-present danger.
“My light’s green, I’m safe.” That notion will get you killed. Put your stupid phone away and pay attention.
Here is a conversation you will never hear. We’re in the autopsy room, and there is a man’s body lying on the slab, his clothes decorated with black tire marks. The medical examiner is standing beside the table, scratching his head in disbelief. His assistant asks him what’s wrong, to which he replies, “I just don’t understand it. It doesn’t make sense. He had the right of way.”
Let’s go back and revisit my parking lot encounter, and just for fun, we’ll do some math to augment the physics lesson we had earlier. I realize physics can be challenging, but we all love math, don’t we? And even better, this is one of those story problems we all enjoyed.
If you recall, I had seen the pedestrian approaching the traffic lane while he was still between the parked cars, so I had a couple extra seconds to react because I had already started slowing down, just in case. As expected, he didn’t stop, and he entered the lane without looking. I stopped in time because I was prepared for his stupidity.
Lucky him. I was three feet away! That’s too close, but he was still standing. Let’s look at how the events might have unfolded if I hadn’t noticed the man approaching.
We’ll assume I was driving at 10 MPH, the legal parking lot speed. Calculating feet per second is easy. At 10 MPH, I would travel almost 15 feet in one second. It takes one second to say, “in one second.” That’s how fast 15 feet fly by at only 10 miles per hour! And by a glorious coincidence, my car is about 15 feet long. So, at 10 miles per hour, my whole car length passes by in just one, short second.
If I had not seen the man until he emerged from between the cars, I would have had about 12 feet to react to maintain that three-foot cushion. My car would travel that 12 feet in less than one second. That gives me less than one second to notice him, realize that he wasn’t stopping, make the decision to stop for him, and then actually get my 4,000-pound car stopped.
By the time all that happened, instead of standing three feet in front of my stopped car, he would have been three feet behind it, and he would not be standing.
See? Wasn’t that the best story problem ever? I love math.
That careless pedestrian has no idea how lucky he is that it was I who was there and not one of the idiots who zip through that parking lot paying no attention at all.
But don’t call me a hero.
Sure, he is alive today because of me. In a very real sense, I did save his life. But I almost wish I hadn’t.
That’s not to say I wish I had mowed him down. I’m not a monster. I just wish it had been another driver’s opportunity to be a hero. The experience changed my life more than his. He is oblivious, while I’m obviously still troubled by it.The next driver to encounter that careless pedestrian may not be able to stop in time. That poor driver’s afternoon will be ruined. Forever. Thanks to me. I’m truly sorry for that.
Although his reaction at the time certainly didn’t suggest it, there remains a remote possibility that the pedestrian did learn something from our encounter that afternoon. If not, chances are the fool whose life I saved will not be as lucky the next time. And with his attitude, a next time is almost guaranteed.
He won’t be thanking anyone then, either.
Scott Wright © 2017