I have spent part of each of the last two days going down to my new living space, and painting the bedroom. White. Today I was taking a break, and was looking down at the paved road from the teraza. A middle-aged Mexican guy came flying down the hill on a bike, going really fast. He had a huge smile on his face and looked really, really happy.
Then, in one second, he and the bike fly thru the air and crashed on the pavement. I went running down to the road, thinking "Oh my god!!!" Two other people, from the neighboring places, came running too.
The man was groaning very loudly, and conscious. He was sort of trying to get untangled from the bike. I helped him by lifting the bike away and we started inspecting him. It looked like three injuries. I saw him land on his head, and then roll with the bike. His head had a large bleeding cut. His shoulder had a large deep, deep bleeding scrape, and it looked like his collar bone was broken. I asked him where he lived because he didn't look familiar, and he said Las Varas.
The three of us were kind of looking at each other, deciding what to do, when a truck with a couple guys in it drove up. They didn't know the man, but they said they would take him to the hospital in Las Varas. So we put his bike, machete, and pack in the back of the truck, and off they went.
Afterwards, I wondered what was in the pack. It was kind of unusual looking for a trajabadore. It sounded like there was broken glass in it. I wondered if he was a happy thief, riding off with his booty, when he crashed. I guess I will never know.
Us three helpers looked at the blood on the pavement for a minute, and they went back to our business. Apparently the bike didn't have brakes.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment