Crash!

Just passed by a terrible car accident on Rte. 140 South near Wrentham Center (just before the courthouse).

I wondered why the cars ahead of me were moving at such a glacial pace.

Motorcycle versus small SUV (Rav 4? CRV?). I got there before the first responders. There was a small group of people who looked distraught (understandably so) and a kid in the backseat of the SUV. I wondered if anyone had called 911 yet.

As I drove by, following the glacial pace of the cars in front of me, I saw not just the mangled motorcycle (Honda? Suzuki? Definitely something small and Japanese…), I saw two legs. Then I saw a man in a sort of twisted version of the fetal position. His helmet was still on, visor either open or gone completely, and blood streaming down his arm onto his t-shirt and probably the pavement. Not moving. But not dead either. Eyes open, he seemed to be looking straight at me. Blue eyes, I think. Then he blinked. Then I heard the sirens and pulled over to let them by. Hope the guy is alright.

Fresh wounds

While driving back from work, I arrived on this gristly scene not long after the cops, EMTs, and paramedics. I took the picture while waiting for the authorities to decide whether to re-route the traffic that was quickly accumulating on this 2 lane road. I figured I was waiting because of some sort of accident, but didn't see any mangled cars. I did not expect to see what I did after being waved through the intersection.

Intersection of Village Street and Forest Road in Millis, MA.

Right behind the car with its door ajar, there was a mangled motorcycle and a pool of deep red, slick and shiny liquid. Fresh blood.

I don't know what became of the motorcyclist, but I hope that s/he survived.

UPDATE:
Sadly, I've since found out that the motorcyclist did not make it.

Ultimate Masshole: Office Edition

This story of Massholism comes from a co-worker.

When her family first moved to Worcester from NYC in 2001, R's dad inherited a dilapidated Buick from her great aunt. It was a sad car, just on the verge of falling apart, but he figured it was would do until they got settled and he bought a new car. One day, R and her dad were in the supermarket when over the loudspeaker they hear "will the owner of a blue Buick, license plate YYY-ZZXX, come to the customer service counter."

It turns out that an elderly man had hit the Buick as it sat in the supermarket's lot, parked nicely between the lines of the parking spot. R's dad, a mellow guy, took it in stride. He wasn't angry he told the man, since it was a shitty old car and he was planning to sell the Buick for parts in the near future. The senior citizen, who had knocked one of his own headlights out when he ran into the Buick, was livid. He blamed R's dad for the way the Buick was parked.

Welcome to Massachusetts.