Redneck Review

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Bad Samaritan

I am a Bad Samaritan. I should be locked up with Jerry and George
and Elaine and Kramer. I saw an accident and I did not stop to help.
Let me try to justify myself. It is a case of mememeitsallaboutme,
but I will try to explain. Travel back in time with me to yesterday...

We headed to town for the boys' bowling league, and then to visit
Invalid Hillbilly Husband at the hospital. As we were on the blacktop
county road, about a quarter-mile from the state road, two 4-wheelers
came whipping out of a new gravel road and onto my side. I had
time to slow down, and the kids yanked the 4-wheelers back onto
their lane. They revved them and sped past us up the hill, side by
side. I told my kids: "No good can come of that. They're going to
get killed driving around like that on this road." It has hills and curves,
and all the cars (except me, of course) drive right in the middle, hills
be darned, because that is what country people do. I am constantly
harping at HH to "get on your own side" because I have had a bad
car wreck (like there's such thing as a good car wreck) and I am a
paranoid driver.

Today the boys and I were headed to town to visit HH in the hospital.
He was expecting us between 1:00 and 2:00. I came to the part of
the road that is kind of an "S" shape, a 90 degree turn left, then about
100 yards, and a 90 degree turn right. You can see people coming,
because there are fields on each side. We turned left, and saw the
two 4-wheelers come up over the hill headed down toward our next
curve. They were racing, two kids on one, a single kid on the other.
They were about 14-15 years old. I slowed down, because they
were going to round the curve before we got to it. The single kid
took the lead. He rounded the turn, but he was going too fast. His
yellow 4-wheeler started to tip up on two wheels. Next thing I know,
he ran off the road alongside a barbed-wire fence. Ouch! The top
two wires twisted. He had his arm between them. That is about all
I could see, because by then I was past him into the curve. The last
I saw, he was twisting at the wire with his other hand. His buddies
had pulled off beside him. #1 son said "Here comes two other kids."
They were coming through the field, one 4-wheeler and one motorcycle.

Now here's the bad part. I didn't stop to pull that kid out of the
fence. I figured his buddies could go right back home and get the
parents. They were about a quarter-mile from where they sped
out in front of us yesterday. At that rate of speed, they would have
been home in less than a minute. I figured one could stay with the
kid, and the other could ride home. Or their two friends could go.

I know this is bad. I feel guilty. If that kid had been gushing neck
blood, or if he had been alone, or if he had been out in the sticks,
or if my kids weren't with me, or if we hadn't been going to the
hospital to see HH, I probably would have stopped. But I didn't.
And now I feel guilty.

But it IS all about ME. I didn't want to get tied up with someone
else's problem. If I called 911, and they sent an ambulance, and
the people had no insurance, they would have to pay out of pocket.
If I moved something on that kid, I could have done more damage.
I am not trained in first aid.

A van passed us going that way before we were even to the kids'
driveway. Maybe they stopped. Maybe not. There is an emergency
room 3 miles from where that happened. I imagine the kid's family
would have just loaded him up and taken him there, rather than
calling an ambulance, which could have been at the other end of
the county, down by HH's hospital.

And have you heard? 4-wheelers are not street legal. Why would
parents let their kids race them on blacktop county roads? I do
hate to see any kid get hurt. I work with kids like this every day.
They are risk-takers. But they are not invincible. I believe everything
happens for a reason. Maybe this was a wake-up call to these kids
or their parents not to let them race around on the roads. Maybe
it will keep them from being hid head-on by a car. Who knows?
Maybe it will teach me to stop at an accident where I'm really
needed.

Don't think I never help people. Last year I stopped near where
these kids now have their driveway, because a couple of old
geezers had tried to turn around in their Cadillac with a T-turn
and got it stuck across the road with the tail-end in a ditch. I let
them use my cell phone to call a tow truck. We sat there with
them until the tow truck came. I have picked up a co-worker
and his then-family twice and driven them home and to a car
repair shop when they broke down between the high school
and elementary. But I just couldn't stop today. It was not on
my agenda.

OK, tell me what a heartless ***** I am. #1 son said on the way
home from the hospital: "I bet he's still there in the fence. Maybe
now you will stop." Low blow, kid. He wasn't there. About 10
feet of fence was torn up. HH said he was going to tell the cow-
getting-out-guy what happened to his fence. He has enough
trouble keeping those beasts in with good fence. About 4 times
a year, his cows are out wandering on the road. He had just
replaced that section 2 years ago. It sucks to be the cow-getting-
out-guy. It really sucks to be the barbed-wire-surfing-4-wheeler-
kid.

And today it sucks to be Hillbilly Mom. Because I should have
stopped.

5 Comments:

  • At 8:15 PM, Blogger Rambling Rose Cottage said…

    Maybe you can help another time. Take care!

     
  • At 3:36 PM, Blogger Rebecca said…

    Hi Hillbilly Mom,
    This is a constant problem these days. Everyone wants someone else to fix their problems or mistakes, no one wants to be the one to blame for their own wrong doing.
    I am qualified in First Aid, not only to the level required for my job, which is the absolute basics, but the full box and dice. The stupidist thing about it is, if I choose to not help someone, that is fine, I don't have to, I ca just walk away. However, if I stop and help, I am now resposible for that person, and they have the right to sue me for any treatmet I give them. This is so stupid to the point that if someone was say in a burning car wreak, and I freed them from that wreak, but in doing so, they end up losing an arm, I could be sued by them for helping. Next time, I think I will just let them burn.
    I think you did the right thing, it might teach these kids a lesson. Don't get hung up about it, you do enough "minding" of other peoples kids as it is.
    HooRoo
    Bec

     
  • At 6:38 PM, Blogger deadpanann said…

    I can't decide if I want to make you feel better, or worse. How about a dose of both? Let's start with the worse part: The reason the kid wasn't there when you drove back by is because the vultures had already picked him apart. Feeling bad? Good. Here's the make-you-feel-better part. I have been the 4-wheeler-stuck-in-a-barbed-wire-fence kid. Those fences jump right out in the way sometimes. It looks far more painful than it is. The part that hurts the worst (besides the gaping puncture wounds) is actually the moment right before you hit the fence, when you think to yourself "Oh shit, I am actually about to hit this barbed wire fence doing 40." Other than that, it's not that bad. I'm sure the most painful part of his experience was realizing that another person could just keep driving.

    Bwhahahahaha!!!

    BTW, I'm not sure about Australia but here in the USA we have something called "Good Samaritan Laws." They protect you from being sued by someone you were trying to help out of a life or death situation.

     
  • At 8:36 PM, Blogger Redneck Diva said…

    Damn kids.

     
  • At 8:42 PM, Blogger Hillbilly Mom said…

    Gina,
    If it looks like life or death, I would help. I'm a know-it-all, I watch ER.

    Bec,
    I agree with people wanting to blame others. I get an earfull of that every day.

    Miss Ann,
    I will now slash my wrists with barbed wire. You sure know how to cheer a redneck up! If the vulture didn't get him, Farmer Cows-Getting-Out did. He had put in a new strand of wire on the top row, about 50 feet long.

    Diva,
    Kids. Can't live with 'em, can't bury 'em in a 55-gallon barrel.

     

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