Month: August 2011

They tug at our heart strings, gripping your finger with their tiny mitts.  Looking at you with all the confidence that love provides.  You feel whole in ways you never experienced before. Unconditional love is a powerful thing.  I hear people lamenting the loss of the good old days when everyone wasn’t so concerned about safety, when we could ride in the back widow of the car and no one thought twice. I want to sit with those people for just a moment and ask them how they would feel if their child was in the back window when a car pulls out in front of the car and the child is flung forward into the back of the front seat, or worse yet, out the front wind screen.  I know these people are just talking, not really thinking about what they are really saying, but I wish they would stop.

Of the great inventions of our times, and there have been many, a precisely constructed child safety seat deserves recognition.  It is a simple device to use.  It is a simple device to make.  It is a simple device to carry from place to place and it can even be transformed into a pumpkin seat.  Yet in this simplicity is an element of safety that protects the apple of our eyes.  I have a case right now involving a roll over crash. One person was suffered wrongful death and another endures an amputation as a result of the roll over.  However, the 12 week old baby was left with nary a scratch.  When the car stopped, on its roof, the car seat held baby fast, allowing the rescue personnel the opportunity to remove him from the wreckage. 

These seats are inexpensive and the companies will work with you to instruct you on the proper use of the seats.  It is a small price to pay for such protection.

Yesterday was a glorious day.  A friend called and invited me to the Indianapolis Moto Grand Prix at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway.  The weather was perfect. The fans were excited.  The food was delicious and the racing was incredible.  I marveled at the bravery and skill of the riders as they sped along at speeds of up to 190 miles per hour.  This got me to thinking.  There was one collision in the two races I saw.  This collision occurred on the last lap at the last turn of the Indianapolis Moto Grand Prix.  Three riders were neck and neck going into the last turn.  Each was desperate to pass the other.  One rider dipped low to pass on the inside.  In order to hold his line he put a huge amount of pressure on the front wheel, but it did not hold and he slid out, off the bike and into last place of the active riders.  He tried, but it did not pay off.  So, how is it that bikers going that fast, in close contact with all the other riders and no one is seriously injured or killed?

In my opinion, the greatest danger to the safety minded biker is the other guy.  So often the car does not take time to see what is clearly there.  It may be because the driver is used to seeing a larger object and reacting to that.  It may be that the driver is not taking enough time to check his blind spot on to look back a second time for oncoming traffic.  Whatever the reason, a major cause of serious injury and wrongful death of Hoosier motorcyclist is having a car turn in front of them, or pull out in front of them.  In either event, there is little time for the biker to react and avoid impact.  As the biker is usually thrown from the bike serious personal injury such as brain injury, spinal cord injury, paralysis, broken bones, and amputation can occur.

Fellow Hoosiers, please take a little bit of extra time to make sure you are not about to pull out in front of a biker.  Look over your shoulder after checking your mirrors, but before merging into the next lane to make sure a biker is not riding along there.  Just a little bit of extra time can save the biker from a lifetime of pain and misery.  It will also allow you to avoid the burden of guilt such a crash will leave behind.

On my way to work, I pass through three school Zones.  During the hours of 7:30 -9:00 am and 3:00-4:30 pm, the speed limit is reduced to 25 miles per hour.  In the last week, since school has been in session, I have had drivers race up to my back bumper and tailgate me from three feet behind, honk at me, yell at me and give me the finger,  as he raced around me on the right, all because I was travelling at 25 miles per hour for 2 blocks.  I know these people feel comfortable being that aggressive within the anonymous protection of their air conditioned womb, but I wish, just once we could all have a “It’s a wonderful Life” moment.  I wish that each one of these drivers could feel what it is like to stand over the bed holding the broken body of a child, their child, run over by a driver who wanted to get someplace three minutes faster.  I wish they could feel the agony of dropping that rose on the casket of their child as the most precious gift in their lives turns to dust.  I wish they could be that person on the side of the road tending a memorial to what they have lost.  I wish they could be awakened in the middle of the night to the cries of pain and need because the little body in the next room can no longer walk to go to the bathroom and needs help with taking care of the ordinary activities of living, like making it to the toilet on your own without having an accident.

 I wish Clarence, the Angel, could be with them as they realize the horror they feel when they realize that it was their own lack of caring for the welfare of others that has inflicted these agonies upon them.  Clarence would point out, as they are screaming, “No”, that it is their face upon which they must look as blame is being assessed and meted out.  I wish I could be there as Clarence takes each of them into his arms and comforts them.  Clarence will ask, “Do you believe in the sanctity of life?” and they will sob “I do”. Clarence will ask, “Do you understand the searing pain you cause when you think of no one but yourself?” and they will cry out, “I do, God help me, I do!”. Clarence will ask, “What will you do now?” and they will come to themselves at the stop light, just before the school Zone, sweating and shaking and sobbing, but they will know that honoring the safety rules designed to protect our children is their duty.  They will thank the Lord it was a dream, and smile at the faces of our children from 25 miles per hour and get where they are going three minutes later.

As I was driving home, the other day, from our Personal Injury law firm, I saw a site that never ceases to amaze me.  I was stopped at the intersection of Delaware Street and Fall Creek Parkway on the near north side of Indianapolis.  I was the first car at the intersection waiting for the light to change.  The speed limit on Fall Creek is in the 30-45 mph range. A pickup truck was travelling east on Fall Creek.  In the bed of the truck, sitting on camp chairs, You know the type-cloth with a metal frame that squeeze shut and fit into a small bag, was what appeared to be a grandmother, and two small children.  Their hair was blowing and their faces were impassive, as if this was the most common thing in the world.  Of course the children do not know what danger they are in, but the driver and the grandmother must know the danger, and yet they apparently do not care.

While riding in a car or truck, a person is travelling at the same speed as the vehicle.  If the vehicle has to make a quick stop, the people in the bed are going to keep moving because they have no brake (ie the seatbelt). So they either fly out of the truck bed or they hit the truck itself.  A quick stop is the least dangerous action, and it can result in death or serious personal injury, so you know all the other actions, (hitting another car, swerving, rolling) can only lead to worse results.  Ejection from a vehicle almost always lead to serious personal injury such as brain injury, broken bones, spinal cord injury and paralysis, amputations and wrongful death.  The only way to avoid such results is to not ride in the bed of a pickup.  Do not allow your friends or family to do it.  In this instance an ounce of prevention avoids a lifetime of whoa, or worse yet wrongful death.