Letters

As I write this letter, an ambulance and police officer are responding to yet another motor vehicle accident in front of my office at the intersection of County Road 39 and Shrubland Road in Southampton.

This is the third accident I’ve had to report to 911 this summer. I’ve lost count of how many car accidents I’ve witnessed from my window in the last 10 years, but I know the death count: too many.

Moments ago, a motorcycle got sideswiped by a car changing lanes that didn’t see him passing on the right.

Three weeks ago, someone pulled out abruptly from my parking lot trying to make a left across the two westbound lanes. She misjudged the speed of the other cars and backed up, just as a landscaping truck towing a trailer couldn’t stop, and took out a Camry. She narrowly avoided being T-boned — and simply drove away.

In June, two cars cut through my parking lot and fought each other to get out first. As they edged toward oncoming traffic side by side, blocking each other’s vision, one made a right as the other tried to go left, and they collided.

Tonight’s accident is the worst one in recent memory. While the young motorcyclist clung to me as I pulled him off the highway, his injured legs unable to hold up his body weight, he begged me not to call emergency services. He was dazed, road-rashed and bloody — but his message was slow and clear: Help me, sir, please, can you help me? No police. No papers. Sir. Please, sir, no police.

I’m rarely paralyzed by inaction. I often know what to do, or know to do something, or who to call in any emergency. This was different. I was at a complete, conflicted loss. It hurt to see him injured, but it broke my heart to see him terrified of getting help.

The incredible volunteers from Southampton Ambulance came, put him on a stretcher and took him away by the ambulance he clearly needed.

Meanwhile, I’m left here wondering if I did the right thing.

Ron Fisher

Southampton