A Flash.

A reflection from this past Tuesday night. What was that night? It changed so much.

I was driving home and the road was less deserted than normal. However, I looked in my rear view when I heard the roaring purr of a Harley. This is a sound I know all to well. It's the sound of home, my mothers custom bike, my dads many bikes, and the love of Bike Week that floods my mind in less than a second when heard. But this sound came with alarm. The bike, still behind me, started to sway...heavily. The thought of a possible wreck seemed so far from the moment but flashed in my mind just the same. Just as quick as the flashing thought came and went, so did the wreck that unfolded before my eyes before I could blink. Immediately I pulled to my far right side of the road, slammed on breaks, put my car in park, snatched the keys from my ignition, and took off running to help. The stranger was my mom, my dad, their friends who road with us on trips...he was family. When I got to the pile of mess the bike was still running with his exhaust pipe resting on his lower left leg. I racked my brain thinking of all the times I watched my mom and dad turn their bikes on and off. I found the button and switched it off as soon as I could remember...seconds were turning into forever. I felt like I was moving in slow motion as I tried to lift his bike off of him. (I flashed back to my mom dropping her bike for the first time and how heavy she said it was) I struggled and wondered where the super strength from the adrenaline was that everyone always talks about during intense moments. I look up from my struggle and see another couple pull over in front of my car. The guy stepped from the drivers side with his phone calling 911. Oh, 911...in the monumental seconds before these other strangers arrived, I did not even think to make that call. The girl ran to my side and I tell her to put her hands on the back and lift the bike as I did the same to the front. Glass digs into my side but I know I can't stop. I had to get this off of him. Once the bike was off I could see the outermost damage. The girl at my side starts to scream and cry at the sight of the mans burnt leg. Only bone was left from the burning pipe. She continues to scream and cry as she falls to her knees on the glass covered road. I sink to the mans head and brace him between my hands. I hold him as still as possible as I look him up and down. Blood everywhere. Blood from the ear. Not good. Focus. "Sir! Can you tell me your name?" He replied with a wordless groan at first and then moaned, "I don't know. I can't breathe. Take my helmet off." I shook my head in disbelief at the situation and said, "I can't do that. I'm going to hold you here until help comes...help is coming." I said this as if I was trying to convince myself that help would arrive and things would be alright again. The couple was in their car I'm guessing. The driver trying to calm the girl maybe. I was glad. I couldn't focus with the sound of her cries that were louder than my thoughts. Looking down, blood covered my arms and hands from his ears, mouth, and nose. There was nothing I could apply pressure to in hope of getting the blood to stop flowing over my arms. It was constant. I prayed for him as I heard the distant rings of help in the air. All of my flashes suddenly stopped once he was loaded into the ambulance. I stood on the side of the road alone, blood dripping from the tips of my fingers as the paramedic handed me a towel to wipe off. I felt like I should go with him so he wasn't alone. I wouldn't want to be alone. Instead, I recieved the paramedics number to call later for an update. They drove off and I returned to my car. Time seemed to stop. I didn't know how long I had been on the side of the road or what I should do next....

I drove home with the mans white beard stained with blood flashing in my head. I called later to find out the man did not make it to the hospital and died in route....

I have been tormented with 'what ifs', flashbacks from the wreck, and a strangers face the last two nights.

ann anise.