I am a product of my culture, and I am ashamed

This morning, I witnessed an accident. And I kept driving. I can’t tell you how ashamed that makes me feel. Ok, I will tell you how that makes me feel. I feel terrible.

I was on the Interstate, driving in the usual morning rush-hour traffic. I kept hearing strange noises from behind, so I looked in the rear-view mirror. I was in the center lane (of three) and I noticed a delivery truck was driving in the emergency lane along the barrier that divides the north-bound lanes from the south-bound lanes. I thought that was strange. First, how is that truck fitting there? And second, how big of a hurry to you have to be in to be driving in that lane?

The truck hit a light standard, and it crashed down behind me. I think a million images briefly flashed through my mind, ranging from “what kinda movie-style cop chase is this?” to “I hope that doesn’t hit my car.”

As he drew abreast me, I realized something was wrong. Cars in the lane between me and him were trying to get out of his way. He was pushing all the trash and snow that had accumulated in the emergency lane with his front bumper. His front wheels were cranked completely to the left, keeping him pressed against the wall separating the lanes.

As he drew past, I saw that his left rear wheels were spinning as though he had the pedal to the metal. I realized he might just be out of control. Mechanical failure. How horrifying that must have been! I’m sure I would have done the same thing. The truck was clearly out of control.

He hit another light standard that crashed down over the truck, showering glass and plastic into my lane. The truck stopped. I moved past. Another passer-by stopped and raced to the truck and was trying to communicate to the driver.

Crisis averted. All good.

Then the doubts crept in. Should I call 9-1-1? (I didn’t.) Should I stop and see if the driver’s ok? I have CPR training. What if he had a heart attack? (I’m assuming it’s a ‘he’ here. I couldn’t see the driver.) But I kept going. Cars were stopping. Others were on it.

I went to work and wrote this.

This is the problem with our culture. Studies have shown that people will just walk by and injured person on the street. People don’t call 9-1-1 because they’ve assumed someone else has. People suffer and die because we’re afraid to act and because we assume someone else will take care of it.

I fancy myself one of those people who runs in when others run away. So what happened?

I guess if I had been on foot, things would have been different. By the time I felt I ought to turn around, I was a mile down the road, and there’s no turning around on the interstate.

I feel terrible. I know everything will be ok, but I don’t want to be one of those people who ignore tragedy. I’m ashamed that I didn’t just stop the car. I could have. I was right next to him.

I am a product of my culture, and I am ashamed.

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UPDATE

Here’s the one news article I found about the accident. I’m glad to hear there were only minor injuries.