~ Real Life Heroes ~

Posted by Candace Bowen Early on Apr 12, 2011 in Authors, Blog | 12 comments

It was no surprise to discover how dedicated firefighters are to their chosen profession. I have always felt it takes something special to risk so much for so little in return. In fact, since September 11, 2001, the number 343 has been indelibly marked in my memory. Given this high regard, I was still really hoping that I would never personally have need of their services.

Candace Bowen Early

On April 8, 2011, for the second time in as many weeks, I found myself on the losing end of a bicycle/car incident, me being the bicyclist. Both times, I am proud to say I was obeying the rules of the road. This time, I happened to be riding to the city’s four-mile bike loop. It is safer than biking on the congested roads of South Florida and more scenic to boot. I start at the dog park and golf course, pass our local fire station, municipal airport, Goodyear Blimp Base and the mall. For the price of riding a few short blocks from my home to cross two busy intersections, I get a tan along with a great workout. Those two busy intersections are where the problems lay. Even after I see the walk sign, I make sure the cars stop and attempt to make eye contact with drivers in turning vehicles. This comes from years of running these same streets. If drivers did not see pedestrians before cell phones, they certainly are not going to see them now.

Approaching 10^th Street and Federal Highway, my second intersection, I had the walk sign. I made sure no cars were turning west onto 10^th before eyeing an SUV making a right to head South on Federal. When the driver braked, I assumed she saw me. Right there was my mistake. As I rode the curb slope into the road, she accelerated. In hindsight, I wonder if it would have been better if I had hit her vehicle. Instead, whatever thought process runs through my quirky mind screamed at me to avoid contact. Locking up my brakes, my brain remained silent, failing to reassess its previous erroneous line of thought as I soared over the handlebars to land in the street. I clearly recall the brief few seconds I laid there figuring out which part of me hurt more before realizing I was in the street and managed to scoot out of it. I vaguely recall what the driver looked like as she came to my aid and am grateful she stayed. After all, it could not have been a highlight to her Friday afternoon either. As the saying goes, “accidents happen.” Unfortunately, they seem to happen to me….a lot lately. I have no intention of finding out if the third time is a charm.

Within sight of the fire station, the rescue squad was there before I could convince myself I really needed it. Other than the face of the spiky-haired paramedic who brought me out of a faint, the faces of my rescuers are indistinct, as is the face of the Broward Sheriff’s Deputy who was kind enough to offer to bring my bike home for me.

After a ride in the rescue squad to the emergency room, a fractured right forearm, jammed and swollen left middle finger (funny, I know), assorted bruises, scrapes and abrasions to go along with the last batch, I am home. Although not in the same condition I left it, I am nevertheless grateful just to be typing this blog.

Halfway through, “Wicked Embers,” the sequel to, “Spur of the Moment,” I have the choice of either having to take the next six to eight weeks off while my dominant arm remains in a cast, or become ambidextrous. So far, I think I am doing fairly well.

The most important message I learned from this mishap, other than that from here on out, I will be driving my bike to the path, is that even writers need real life heroes on occasion.

Their faces may remain indistinct to me, but I shall never forget their names. To the crew from Pompano Beach, Florida ~ Fire Station 24, you shall forever have my gratitude.

Scene Crew: Doug Henry, Tracy Glass, Mike Scanzera

Rescue Crew: Matt Fitzgerald, Glenn Mackie, Henry Chavez

Here to write another day,

Candace Bowen Early