by Alyssa Ramos
No, the miracle at Malibu Wines was not that there was a fountain of wine, but it was what happened after the head on collision with a motorcycle and a Prius that I saw as I walked up on Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t sure if writing about the incident would be appropriate at first, but I’m way too thankful for the people who happened to be around when it happened, and the motorcyclist’s quick thinking and smart usage of safety gear, to let the miracle be unheard.
Thinking about it still puts a knot in my stomach and a drilling feeling in my head. My date and I had just arrived to Malibu Wines, and were walking across the dirt driveway entrance when the shrilling sound of tires screeching and metal colliding exploded on the narrow, winding highway in front of us. I remember screaming, and jolting around so violently that I hit my date in the back as we both watched in horror as a motorcyclist flew over a Prius and about 150 ft behind it, onto the road.
I thought for sure he was dead. The Prius was driving on the wrong side of the road and hit him head-on. I watched my date’s face register what happened and in a split second we both started running towards him. I watched as the motorcyclist rolled himself into the dirt on the side of the road, writhing in pain, making my legs feel like Jell-O and my head feel faint.
“Stay here.” My date instructed as he ran into the road. I did as I was told, knowing that he would know what to do. I stood frozen on the side of the hot, dusty highway, incoherently clutching my mouth as I watched the man shout in pain as he examined his body. From where I was standing, his foot looked either bent in half, or missing, and I tried not to decipher what the object lying a few feet away in the road was. Two of the valet guys ran over to help, but my date was already strategically examining his legs and keeping him calm.
“Does that guy know what he’s doing?” Another valet guy asked from behind me, who was also watching my date’s roadside assistance. “Yes, he’s a surgeon.” I replied quietly, still choked up from the shock. “Wow, that guy’s really lucky you guys were here.” He said, acknowledging the coincidence. Two more valet guys jogged up with a hand-held STOP sign and the three of them ran to the road in front of the fallen motorcycle to direct traffic around the accident.
After the man was aligned, my date removed his leather jacket and helmet, revealing thick salt and pepper hair, and a bloody face. “Towels! Can someone get towels!” My date yelled, and at once a handful of valet guys ran and returned with towels for the man’s face. He had finally gotten him to lie down and calm down when the ambulance and police arrived.
“That guy is so lucky to be alive,” My date said as he walked back over to me with bloody hands, “he said right as he saw the car coming around the corner on the wrong side of the road, he lifted himself off the seat of the bike to avoid going through the windshield.” I looked back at the road in disbelief at the Prius whose front right end was smashed with the motorcycle laying in front of it, and the distance from it, which the man was laying, seemingly unscathed. “If it wasn’t for that and all of his gear, it would have been a lot worse.” He added.
It turned out that the guy driving the Prius on the wrong side of the road was a student on visa from Japan, where driving on the left side of the road normal, although we don’t really know the full story. After the ambulance took the man away and my date washed the blood off of his hands, we headed inside Malibu Wines for a much-needed glass of nerve-calming wine. One of the staff members named Jeff, who had also witnessed the entire thing, was gracious enough to give us a complimentary bottle wine, which definitely helped us relax a bit even though I drank the majority of it since he was driving.
My date had put his card in the man’s wallet and offered to fix the lacerations on his face for free, and the next day the man called to thank him, and inform him that he only had a fractured rib and a few fractures in the leg that I thought was bent in half. The moral of the story is to be thankful you’re alive, and be cautious of people around you, especially on the road. And also preferably to never drive a motorcycle.
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