It's the Little Things

You've already made hundreds of decisions today.

Starting with deciding to get out of bed to how long you're going to brush your teeth to whether to drive 25 or 28 mph in your neighborhood. The decision about what way to go to work, the decision about how many cups of coffee, the decision about whether to keep working on that spreadsheet or to read this blog.

We all make a lot of decisions - sometimes without even knowing it.

This morning, my decisions had me leaving the house at 9 am. My upstairs neighbor Michelle, and her 2 kids did the same. It's not unusual for us to walk out around the same time, but it doesn't always happen. As I was crossing the street to get into my car, I had to lean in to my driver side door to let a mercedes squeeze past. I had made the decision to cross in front and make him wait for me to cross. It's an urban residential neighborhood - houses with yards, not apartments - but not many people have driveways so we all park on the street and when both sides have parked cars, only one car at a time can get through.

I get in my car, check the rearview mirror and see the exact moment of impact between the mercedes and a motorcycle that was crossing the intersection.

I see the motorcycle driver fly through the air.

I am in shock. Did I just see that?

I look at Michelle, who has her 3 year old and 10 year old girls in tow, and in shock ourselves, we silently agree on the decision to be made. She grabs her phone and stays put and I run down half a block in heels to the scene where the motorcycle driver is (thank god) alive and standing there in a daze.

The bike is trashed. There is windshield glass and car parts everywhere. Some fluid is leaking and smoke. He is in socks - his shoes have been knocked clean off - one of theme is 1/2 up the street the other direction. He's holding his arm which is either broken or dislocated or both and when he takes off his helmet (before I can suggest that he doesnt) there is blood on his face from a small cut.

THANK GOD for helmets.

He walks towards me and I make him stop and sit down. Then I have to make him keep sitting down. I yell to Michelle, we need a medic too - not just the police. He wants to make phone calls but his phone is broken. He was just test driving the motorcycle. Can I call them for him? Another neighbor who just arrived says she'll call. I'm afraid to leave him alone, he'll get up again.

The driver of the mercedes comes walking up the street on his mobile phone. He seems fine. He's also calling 911. He was driving his daughter and her friend to school. They were in the backseat where the impact happened. The motorcycle T-boned their car. There is no stop sign. He made the decision to go. The motorcycle made the decision to trust there was a stop the other way.

The car passengers all appear to be fine but the girls have glass from the windshield in their hair. The girls (also about 10 yrs old) know Michelle's daughter. The dad asks if Michelle can take them to school. The girls are worried about being late.

Clearly no one involved in this accident is thinking clearly.

The police and medics arrived within 3-5 minutes (it was pretty amazing actually). The cycle driver was taken away on a board with a neck brace. I overheard the medic telling the dad he was going to HAVE TO to take the girls with him to get checked out at the hospital. Specifically, the one that was on the impact side.

And all I could think about on the way to work afterwards was the decisions that everyone involved had made that day...that life...to be in that spot at that moment. If I hadn't made the mercedes slow down to pass me, he would have been safely through that intersection. If some city planner had ever decided to put a stop sign at that intersection, one of the drivers would have stopped. If the dad had the girls out of the house 2 minutes earlier. If the cycle driver had been 30 seconds later. You can extrapolate back for generations of decisions if you try - all leading up to that moment of impact.

It's the little decisions we make that make the big ones happen, kids. The little ones.