Safety first.

I picked up my new bicycle yesterday. While setting it up for riding (better seat, mirror, lights, and my favorite thumbbell), my mind revisited the vision of crashing and flipping over onto the street. My fall was not an accident and fell into the "assholiness" category but it reminded me of an important topic.

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SAFETY! Whether you are a pedestrian, riding on a bicycle, crotch rocket, or a Harley, road safety should be foremost on everybody's mind.

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A pedestrian, in a hurry to cross the street, stepped around a group of people waiting for the light to change. A transit system bus, pulling into the bus stop, struck her head just as she tried to get back on the sidewalk. First on the scene, I approached the woman as she lay on the street. She looked at me and smiled. I told her the ambulance was on the way. A few minutes later, I looked into the ambulance and asked how she was doing. The medic told me she had died shortly after she was struck. I was stunned. She used one of her last living moments to smile at me.

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The injuries I suffered were minor but earlier this summer, a bicycle rider died after getting "doored". The rider was thrown into the street by a driver opening his door into traffic. He was struck and killed by a passing motorist.

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All summer, motorcycles called "crotch rockets" traveled up and down the lakefront highway at high speeds. The riders recklessly hit speeds of over 90 MPH. They often roared past the radar police car in groups. The police, instead of trying to pursue at such dangerous speeds, had to radio ahead and try to catch them at their destination.

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Occasionally, the laws of physics caught them first. One night a rider lost control, veered off the road , and struck a tree. His torso remained attached to the tree limb. His legs and hips were found a hundred feet or so further up the median.

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On another night this big city copper was told by a motorist of a body in the street. Driving up to the location, I noticed a bundle of clothes laying in the road. The pile of rags contained a man laying on his back staring up at the sky. I checked for a pulse in the neck and felt only bones protruding. Checking further, I observed the back pockets of his jeans were also facing upward. After calling in and requesting "everybody", I looked around for the inevitable motorcycle. The cycle was down the street a few yards away. I noticed another dark pile on the parkway. It was a man curled up in the baby position. I felt for a pulse and then heard a groan. As he turned his head his brains began to spill from under his "do rag". He died there on the street.

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Professional police motorcycle riding was also dangerous. Several officers suffered injuries in crashes or in training sessions. A news item told of two officers getting killed while doing motorcade duty for the president.

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Safety first. We'll all hopefully live longer.