2008 Woodie Awards
Accident victims deserve appologies
Ryan McNaughton, Special to The Carolinian
Issue date: 10/24/06 Section: Opinions
August 16th, 2006 was a beautiful day. The sun was out, I had had my braces off for about a month, I had just had my bike fixed and I was riding it to my 4:00 class. As I approached the light on Tate and Carr, I stopped to make sure the way was clear. As I started across the street, a Dodge Dakota pick-up truck started to turn left. I, like a small wildebeest being chased by a hungry hyena, knew I wasn't fast enough.
I sat balanced on my bike which didn't seem to be moving for what felt like an eternity. Then as soon as I felt the car pin my leg against my bike, time sped up. I saw a shiny bumper, then a black hood (twice) then the cement and a few rocks. I was outside of myself and didn't feel any pain. But when I opened my eyes and saw my bike seven or eight feet down Carr Street and a pool of blood forming under my nose, I knew I was in trouble. So I screamed. And when I felt my teeth with my tongue, I screamed again.
Before I could push myself upright, I was surrounded by about 20 to 25 people all trying to help as best they could. Some were asking me what day it was and others if I could move my hand. One very kind woman sat just behind me and helped me call my mother and my boyfriend. I never saw her face but thank God she was there.
After a few minutes I redirected my gaze from the lake of blood on the street to the people in front of me; and among the would-be paramedics pushing to get closer, there were two boys about 18 or 19 completely motionless. They stared at the masses that made up my face and didn't say a word. Later I would find out that the reddish-haired boy was the driver but at the time I couldn't be sure because out of all of the words that were said, I never once heard "I'm sorry."
A few weeks later I ran into a friend of the drivers and she explained that at the party he went to that night he felt really "bad about it." She said that he was "like really bummed out" and that she actually felt sorry for him. I was shocked and didn't say anything but I should have said what was on my mind. I should have told her that he didn't feel bad enough to say he was sorry. He didn't feel bummed enough to speak to me, visit me at the hospital or even say "oops" via MySpace. So I don't feel bad for him.
There is a certain procedure you go through when you hit a pedestrian with your car and it includes any sign of concern or remorse. Since my injuries prevent me from working my two jobs, I'll be waiting.
I sat balanced on my bike which didn't seem to be moving for what felt like an eternity. Then as soon as I felt the car pin my leg against my bike, time sped up. I saw a shiny bumper, then a black hood (twice) then the cement and a few rocks. I was outside of myself and didn't feel any pain. But when I opened my eyes and saw my bike seven or eight feet down Carr Street and a pool of blood forming under my nose, I knew I was in trouble. So I screamed. And when I felt my teeth with my tongue, I screamed again.
Before I could push myself upright, I was surrounded by about 20 to 25 people all trying to help as best they could. Some were asking me what day it was and others if I could move my hand. One very kind woman sat just behind me and helped me call my mother and my boyfriend. I never saw her face but thank God she was there.
After a few minutes I redirected my gaze from the lake of blood on the street to the people in front of me; and among the would-be paramedics pushing to get closer, there were two boys about 18 or 19 completely motionless. They stared at the masses that made up my face and didn't say a word. Later I would find out that the reddish-haired boy was the driver but at the time I couldn't be sure because out of all of the words that were said, I never once heard "I'm sorry."
A few weeks later I ran into a friend of the drivers and she explained that at the party he went to that night he felt really "bad about it." She said that he was "like really bummed out" and that she actually felt sorry for him. I was shocked and didn't say anything but I should have said what was on my mind. I should have told her that he didn't feel bad enough to say he was sorry. He didn't feel bummed enough to speak to me, visit me at the hospital or even say "oops" via MySpace. So I don't feel bad for him.
There is a certain procedure you go through when you hit a pedestrian with your car and it includes any sign of concern or remorse. Since my injuries prevent me from working my two jobs, I'll be waiting.
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