The Biker

We had a pretty crazy weekend but I can't tell you about it because it's not our story; it's someone else's. Instead, I will tell you about a crazy thing that happened to us once when we lived in Victoria.


It was spring and Mark and I had taken the week off from work. Our grand plan was to laze around home for most of the week and visit all of our favourite places in the city whenever we felt like it.

On the first day of our vacation we woke up reasonably early and prepared to have a fun morning downtown, planning to sit at a good cafe for a while and then hit a few shops afterward. When we left our apartment the bright sun and fresh spring air greeted us. We walked up the front walkway to the street, turned toward downtown, and immediately heard the scream of tires skidding on pavement behind us, followed by a sickening THUNK and the tinkle of broken glass.

Aw crap.

We turned in time to see a woman land on her side in the middle of the road, ten or fifteen feet away from a twisted bicycle. Also in the middle of the road was a large black SUV with a dent in the hood and a smashed windshield.

I ran down the road towards the still figure. As I ran I saw out of the corner of my eye that people in the nearby houses were peeping out their doors at the commotion. I screamed at them to call 911 and they immediately retreated back into their homes.

Two nice men we were acquainted with who lived down the road from us were gingerly approaching the woman. As I ran I screamed at them not to move her. They watched my approach and must have assumed that I knew something about something, which I don't really. I had some training as a Field Medic in the Militia, but not much more than someone might learn on a civilian first-aid course, and it had been a long time ago.

As I reached her, the still figure started to feebly move. Her bicycle helmet was in pieces and her face was already swollen and coloured with angry new bruises from the impact.

I told her not to move but she seemed confused, not to mention hurt and scared. I held her head and hip in place against the pavement with my hands as I scanned her body for blood. She was wearing jeans and a jean jacket, which is actually a great material to wrap your body up with if you're going to get hit by a truck. I felt around the parts of her that I couldn't see well to make sure that there were no open wounds that I was missing.

Here I was, the first day of our vacation, groping a half-dead stranger in the middle of the road.

Her eyes were half closed and she slurred her words as she asked me where she was bleeding. I told her there was no blood and she seemed surprised to hear it. She told me her arm was broken, but in my mind that was not as important as her head and spine. I did all I knew how to do, which was to hold her still and keep her talking. As we spoke I discovered that she only lived a couple of houses away. I told some of the onlookers to go to the address and see if anyone was home, and a gentleman broke away from the growing crowd to do so. He returned a moment later with a lanky, unshaven man following. As the man reached us, he took a look at the woman on the ground and a sudden panic shone in his eyes.

"OH NO TRACY, OH GOD, OH MY GOD!!"

Tracy tensed under my hands and tried to move. A helpful neighbour took the idiotic man, who was still screaming and freaking out, and led him away. She would receive no comfort from him.

The black SUV had been moved to the side of the road by this time, and the man who had been driving it was standing in the crowd watching the action. He had repeated a few times in a quavering voice that she'd veered right out in front of him; he'd tried not to hit her but it had been impossible.

After he'd said this a couple of times, one of our nice neighbours that we were acquainted with told him quietly, "nobody's concerned about that right now, buddy."

The man from the SUV stood silently after that, a part of the crowd but separated from them by recent events. His eyes were wide and his face was pale.

The wail of police sirens broke the air, and from my position I could see the police car approaching from down the road. He was zooming along with all his lights flashing, and as he approached it started to seem like he would not stop in time. The people near me retreated a few steps, but at the last moment the car screeched to a halt in front of us.

After a brief look at Tracy, they started asking questions of us all, trying to get a handle on what had occurred. Shortly after their arrival the ambulance pulled up and the paramedics hurried over to us.

"Please step back" was the curt command. I and the people around me started to move, but they pointed at me and said "- not you. Stay there and hold her still."

Tracy had been moaning in pain and constantly trying to move, but she did it so slowly and gently that I had no trouble holding her still with one hand. By this time I was holding her hand with my free hand. The paramedics worked around me, asking her questions as they did their magic.

When they asked her if she was on any medication, she said she was taking Methodone. This prompted them to start muttering special codes into their radios - I can only assume that an injured drug addict is trickier to treat than a healthy person.

They removed her jacket and I saw her injured arm for the first time. The skin was purple and swollen under a series of taut blood blisters. Tracy's earlier statement that it was broken seemed like a pretty sure bet.

They finally got her onto the gurney and packed her into the back of the ambulance. I stood where I had been and watched as they closed the door and pulled away. I noted that the lanky idiotic man from her apartment was not in the back with her - just as well.

I asked the police if I could go. After finding out that I had not witnessed the impact, he waved me on my way. For the first time I noticed Mark, standing off to the side with our neighbours. I wandered over to them and we all stood there staring at each other. One of the other guys muttered "yay, team" in a quiet attempt at humour. We spoke with them in hushed tones for a few moments and then went on our way.

Mark and I wandered back up the hill towards the downtown area. After walking about thirty feet, panic welled up in me in a giant wave, and I suddenly felt the adrenaline that had likely been coursing through my body the entire time. I gasped for air and tears sprang to my eyes. At least I had stayed calm when it counted! Mark put his arm around me as we continued to walk.

We did go downtown, but I simply cannot remember a single other detail about the rest of the day.