Winston approaches the pedestrian walkway crossing the busy, four-lane road. He sees it will not be easy to navigate today. Normally, there are breaks in the traffic and he can jay walk if he moves quickly. But today, the automobiles are thick as thieves in both directions--most unfortunate.
Winston pushes the walk light. It will be another 120 seconds before the traffic signal will change to red and the walk light will illuminate. Winston hates delays; he has his walking commute timed to within three minutes. It’s not like Winston counts the number of cracks in the sidewalk but he does take a certain pride in insuring a precise commute.
As Winston waits, he observes a middle-aged Asian woman accompanied by a small child. They are marooned in the traffic island of the roadway. They’ve succeeded in getting only halfway across. How unfortunate, he thinks. He wonders how long they’ve been out there.
The woman looks to be at her wits’ end. Eventually, however, she spies a brief interruption in the flow of the traffic and hurries to get herself and her little girl across the remainder of the parkway. Just as they reach the safety of the opposite curb, a motorcyclist guns its engine and speeds past them, missing the pair by mere inches. The woman is frightened for her safety and the child’s. She reaches down and clutches the girl tightly to her side. The cyclist continues down the road at a breakneck speed. Winston wishes he were situated a bit closer; he would right this injustice by using his smartphone to take a photo of the motorcycle’s license plate and report it to the police. It would take no time at all. In fact, he wouldn’t even have to slow his pace. It could all be done while he continues his commute.
The cyclist is savoring the success he’s enjoyed causing fear in the mother and child. Winston sees the cyclist looking over his shoulder at the pair. Winston also sees that the cyclist is oblivious to his proximity to a traffic backup and the stationary vehicles situated directly in front of him. It takes the cyclist only two seconds to close the distance. Winston watches the ensuing carnage with fascination: the motorcycle rear-ends a car while traveling at approximately 45 miles per hour.
The motorcycle hits the vehicle’s rear bumper and the cyclist becomes airborne; his head and torso slam into the car’s rear windshield and roof. Not only does the collision of flesh and bone with metal and glass produce a sound similar resembling a shotgun blast, it also retards the distance and velocity of the rider’s ballistic trajectory. The lifeless corpse flips lazily, head-over-heels, for a distance of five to six car lengths before landing back onto terra firma with a thud! It takes only a little under four seconds. Winston is impressed by the sound and fluidity of motion. It reminds him of a well-choreographed opera. He suppresses the urge to applaud.
Winston places a call to 9-1-1. In just under 17 seconds, he’s relayed the location and nature of the emergency. He is ambivalent about waiting, but ultimately he decides to stay and observe until the police arrive. Winston notes the sirens are audible in just less than four minutes. Six minutes and five seconds later, both the police and ambulance arrive on the scene. The first responders scrape the cyclist’s remains off the pavement.
Winston is not happy that his arrival at home will be delayed by thirteen minutes and 45 seconds, and he’s especially unhappy that he’s forced to wait for the additional two-minute walk-cycle.
C’est la vie.