A moment’s lapse can have dire consequences
After shopping at the Pharmaprix at Cavendish and Sherbrooke St. W. on Saturday afternoon, Jan. 19, my wife and I had just left the store when we were confronted by a terrifying sight in the parking lot. An oversized pickup truck with a plow on front was backing up and, as we looked at it, we spotted, under the back of the truck, an older woman who had fallen down. The back wheels were about to go over her head.
Although I felt frozen in place by the horrific scene, both my wife and I yelled “stop” and frantically waved our arms.
The truck driver, seeing the horror on our faces and our frantic gestures, stopped just before the back wheels would have rolled over the woman’s head. I gestured for him to move forward, which he did. He then jumped out of the truck, ran to the back and asked the woman whether she could get up. She grabbed ahold of him, he pulled her up, and we all, greatly relieved, slowly walked into the store. By this time, someone had called 911.
The woman seemed to be in shock. She was apologizing to the truck driver, saying she was okay and didn’t need an ambulance. Indeed, she appeared to be miraculously okay. The ambulance came and took her away on a stretcher, hopefully without any serious injuries.
This would have been time to slip away into the crowd, but the truck driver was really shaken and needed a witness to his responsible behaviour. So we stuck around for an hour as police went about their meticulous investigation. (My impression was that it was done so seriously because if it turned out the woman was badly injured, they would need to do an in-depth investigation. Once it appeared the woman would be okay, they started to reopen the taped off area.)
I gave a statement to police describing the whole incident, how slowly the snowplow driver was going and his solicitous actions toward the victim. I felt he was blameless.
But it really made me think of the fragility of life, where a moment’s inattention to dangers in your environment, such as heavy snow cleaning equipment, can have dire consequences. Shawn Mackniak
Montreal
Re: “Snowplow shows ‘no snowplows’ sign who’s boss” (Gazette, Jan. 21)
In the Plateau, I see sidewalk snowplows tearing along with little regard for pedestrians.
On repeated occasions over the years, they have knocked the paving stones of my garden wall onto the ground outside the front of my home. My impression is they don’t really pay attention to what they hit. They race along as if they get paid by the number of sidewalks they clear rather than being paid by the hour. I have warned my young son to cross the street when he sees them, because they pose a major danger to pedestrians.
I think the city needs to lay down some clear ground rules for them to avoid damaging property (that of the citizens and the city itself) and for the safety of the public. Edwin Yee
Montreal
I spend many hours a week driving, and not just in Montreal, but to take courses that require long-distance driving. More and more often, I am finding myself behind an abnormally slow driver, in which I almost need to brake on the highway, or one that is swerving into the lane I am driving in. It’s almost as if they were a drunk driver and not able to see the dividing lines anymore. The most noticeable thing is a head down, then up, then down, then up — and they are totally oblivious to any other vehicles on the road, never mind people.
Last Saturday, Jan. 19, I found myself in a split-second observation with life and death, and I can assure you that nothing had to do with texting and driving.
Snow, ice, black balls of whatever are the only memory I have of falling material from a bridge while I was driving. It was a split second between the falling and impact of it all on my car — the windshield, to be precise. In that moment, that split second not knowing but hearing the impact, being blinded on Highway 20, wipers still going, and staying in the split second of time that either could send one out of control or remain in control, the big question was, “Oh my God, will I live or die?” and truly not knowing.
I had to file a police report, wait for a tow truck, and now, how can I be a beacon of light for those who are texting and driving at the same time?
It takes complete presence while driving, and responsibility to self and others, whether clearing roads from a bridge, driving, you name it.
I am still in shock that I am alive. Cherie Shypit Griffiths
Pointe-Claire