Dangerous Darkness

Last night, a local girl, aged 13, became a national statistic: children who are killed/injured on Halloween night. It was a tragic accident that occurred when the girl and two friends made a mad dash across a wide, busy road at 8:30 pm.

It was dark last night, and it gets really dark in the desert; by 6 pm, I could not see the street in front of my home. Streetlights are few and far between in my community, so I understand the darkness, but where the accident happened, there are more streetlights. However, streetlights occur in the housing areas, not in the broad expanses of open road that connect the populated areas.

The girls wanted to cross in the middle of the block, not at a corner, not in a crosswalk, not where there was a streetlight. An unsuspecting driver hit one of them, causing massive trauma to the little girl's body. Hysterical, the driver called 9-1-1 and begged for help. The paramedics who arrived on-scene used CPR and every other intervention they could to save her life, but it's doubtful that she'll survive, although she was alive when she arrived at the hospital.

When I read the article, my mind flashed back to a couple of weeks ago, about a mile from my home. I was in the last leg of my journey back down the hill from teaching a night class, and when I return it's dark, deep dark, the kind of dark that requires driving all the time with the brights turned on. The last stretch of open road before my housing area has, perhaps, 2 lights to cover a full mile, but it's an industrial area, so there aren't many people out at 9:45 pm.

Suddenly, just at the leading edge of my headlights, I saw a man walking toward me in the middle of my lane. I swerved the car and avoided him, but was almost frozen in shock: had I not been driving with my brights on, I would not have seen him in time to avoid hitting him.

He was an older man, dressed like older men dress, in trousers, a button-up shirt, and a cardigan sweater, wearing glasses and a dazed expression. I don't know how he was where he was or why he was walking toward the oncoming traffic, but the cars behind me also missed him, so he was a lucky man that night.

I called the local police department and explained the situation, expressing concern that perhaps he had walked away from a nearby home and his family could be looking for him. I was told that they'd check it out and left it to the police to do their duty.

I didn't hit him, but I had nightmares during the night as I kept seeing his face so close in front of my car. I jarred awake, imagining how I would live with hitting another human being. Even though I knew it would not have been my fault, it would have been my burden to bear for the rest of my life. I can imagine what the driver of the car last night must feel as so suddenly and so unexpectedly there was a child in front of that bumper--and no way to avoid hitting her.

The police report can vindicate the driver of a tragic accident, but the human report never allows the guilt to go away.

When the conservation people call for a "Lights Out" night, I shudder because I know how much well-lit streets and neighborhoods can deter crime--and prevent tragic accidents that are caused by poor visibility and bad choices, a deadly combination on any night.