Drinking and Driving _ And It's Still Happening, A Lot

DRINKING AND DRIVING - AND IT'S STILL HAPPENING, A LOT

I'VE WITNESSED THE CARNAGE - IT'S ONE OF THOSE REALITIES THAT NEEDS TO BE SHARED

     Every third day, I arrive home from my morning walk, with our little dog, Muffin-mania, having recovered at least one beer can, harvested from the roadside shrubbery. What really creeps me out, besides the fact folks are drinking and driving, down a residential street, that ends with a turn-around, is that these arse-heads are on the same road that our family travels, through the day, to get to our home. It's one thing to sit and get drunk, at a bar, or at your kitchen table, but quite another to climb into a motor vehicle with open liquor of any kind. These are the numbnuts who think the television show, "Trailer Park Boys," is a documentary about drug and alcohol abuse. It comes as a surprise to them, when they find out the characters of the show are actors, and really good ones, and not actually the drunken, drug-smoking clowns, you see on the television screen. I think the producers exaggerated the abuses, to make it very clear, the show is "just a show" about the dire consequences of drug and alcohol abuses. But apparently, there are a few who believe there really is a "Sunnyvale Trailer Park," a living-breathing Julian, Bubbles, Ricky, Randy and Mr. Leahey. I watch the show but I don't then get into the car pissed to the gills, and drive to the grocery store, and steal meat from the coolers (to then take back to the park to sell, in order to finance more booze and drugs).
     The goofs who drink and drive in our neighborhood belong in a park like this, where they can blend into the full-monty culture of uninhibited booze and drug recreation, that obviously appeals to them here in contemporary Gravenhurst. The clod who dumped the beer can on the side of our street, and all the clods who have been doing this heavily, over the past six months, need to get some help, before they kill themselves in one fashion or another. I'd like to care about them, and their welfare, but most of all, I am deeply concerned about the carnage they could bring to our quiet neighborhood, where there are more youngsters than any time in the past twenty-five years. A friend dropped our boys off late last evening, and if a drinking driver had come down that street, at around the same time, and been speeding, or on the wrong side of the road, due to impairment, I shiver at this laptop, thinking about the plethora of bad things that could have happened. It's not like our neighborhood has been free of accidents regarding booze consumption, and the operation of a motor vehicle. We've even had racing automobiles on our street, in the wee hours of the night, that ended with a serious collision, between an out of control vehicle, and large pine tree. The only positive attached, was that no one was coming around the turn at the top of the road, as these jerks were racing to the end of the street. There would have been loss of life without question. As it was, the tree just lost a few branches and got a dint, and the car was towed away as a write-off.
     As a former reporter, and editor with Muskoka Publications, it was my job to either attend accident scenes myself, with a camera in tow, or assign it to one of the other photographers on staff. Nobody really wanted to attend these terrible accident scenes, but it was our job to present our readers with the truth of their community, whether it was pleasant or ugly. We operated on the foundation, that it was the "public's right to know." Not only did we get front page news photographs, by attending these highway disasters, but we'd most certainly get a news story to saddle-up to the images captured. We didn't take pictures of dead bodies, or strewn body parts, but we could have, if this was the type of newspaper we were running. It wasn't. So we toned it down a lot. We saw what first responders witnessed, and often times, we were in attendance at accident scenes, before they arrived. We assisted at many of these scenes, helping manage traffic flow, until police arrived with flares. Our star photographer, John Black, of Gravenhurst, actually kept emergency flares in his car, just in case he arrived before first responders, and could use them to warn oncoming traffic.
     We saw a lot of bad stuff. At least half of the traffic mishaps that I attended personally, were events contributed to, by the fact the driver was pissed, and there was open alcohol in the vehicles. I remember one evening, sitting at a girlfriend's house, playing cards with her parents, in the kitchen (at the front of the house), on property near the former exit to Pier 100 Marina, west of Bracebridge, and hearing the God-awful crash outside of two vehicles. A vehicle, which had been stopped on the highway, preparing to make a left turn, was hit from behind by an impaired driver. I knew he was impaired, when we ran up to the corner, to see if we could help the injured, and I saw him staggering out of the car, and attempting to open the trunk of his car, which of course, was the one that had plowed into the vehicle that was turning. When I got up to the scene, he had successfully opened the trunk, and was tossing an array of booze, and beer bottles, into the ditch at the side of the road. So here then, was an unsecured accident scene, that posed an immediate danger to all approaching vehicles, from either direction on Highway 118, and this jerk is more concerned about getting the booze out of his car, before the cops arrived. Getting it out of the trunk was irrelevant, because first of all, he didn't have access to it while driving, which meant it was legal transport, and secondly, because he was drunk in-person, which was all the police would need to know. The other reality, was the guy was more concerned about himself, and what would happen when the police attended, than to find out how the driver and potential passengers of the lead car, had fared during the high speed collision. We secured the scene, by having family members with flash lights, warning oncoming traffic in both directions.
     When I got to the car in front, the woman was covered in glass, having smashed her head through the windshield, and was crying, believe it or not, because she was worried about what her husband was going to say about the damage to the vehicle; more so, than whether she was all right physically after the impact. She hadn't been wearing a seat belt at the time, and although she could have been killed by the impact, the cuts and blood on her forehead was minimal, and despite contact with the steering wheel, the driver was having no problems breathing, except for the energy she was using to cry, and complain about her husband's anger issues. There were no passengers, thankfully. She climbed out of the car on her own, and we got her safely off to the side of the road, where my girlfriend's family members took over, trying to calm her down. The fellow who caused the accident, was still harvesting bottles of booze, including beer bottles, but this time, it was from inside the car, as he had already cleaned-out the trunk. Most of the booze was free flowing, following the impact, and absolutely all this jerk was interested in, was cleansing his car of evidence. Fat chance of that! He kept putting his arm around me, and asking if I could tell the cops it wasn't his fault, as the driver in front hadn't signaled her intention to turn. As if that would have mattered for a guy who couldn't walk a straight line of more than three feet without half-falling. He was, as I observed in many other crashes, a craven coward, who was only concerned about what was going to happen to him, once the fuzz arrived. He never even asked about the condition of the driver of the other vehicle. So when he was tossed into the back seat of the cruiser, let me tell you, I was very eager to describe every action and reaction the man had displayed, following the collision, when police questioned me later at roadside. He wasn't a teenager either. He was a thirty-something, who had been driving the booze equivalent of a four wheel saloon. The guy was so drunk, he shouldn't have been walking, let alone driving a car. The positive here, was that there was no loss of life involved. But it had been within a whisker, because there was fuel from the ruptured tank flowing all around us, and one tiny spark would have killed the woman in the first car, who was definitely in shock, and would have been enveloped by flames before she could react to the danger of her situation.
     On another occasion, I was coming back from a late press-night jag, at the Georgian Bay-Muskoka Lakes Beacon, in MacTier, when I came upon a van on its side, at the Glen Orchard intersection between Highways II8 and 169. The lights of the van were still illuminated, and when I pulled up, I was watchful, to make sure I wasn't about to run over a body ejected from the vehicle. I didn't have a phone, back then, (circa 1979-80) to make a call to the Bala detachment of the Ontario Provincial Police. I decided to search the scene first, and identify the victims and injuries received, to then try to flag down another motorist for assistance. I parked so that the lights of my car were aimed at the main scene of the accident, which was rather large, considering the van had rolled twice as I would later discover.
     I had a small flashlight in the car, and I used it to check the van's interior, for anyone trapped, or laying injured in the wreckage. The debris field was dangerous, because there was leaking fuel and broken-off parts over every square foot of the tarmac and roadside. I determined the van was empty, and began using the flashlight to scan the area from the road, to where the van had finished its roll. I was hugely nervous, and feeling a little sick to my stomach, because I couldn't see how anyone could have survived this accident. I heard some cracking of downed limbs, in the forest area, to my left, (the Port Carling side), and when I turned the beam where the sounds were emminating from, I caught a glimpse of a young man trying to break free of the shrubs, that he had caught his coat on. He was bloodied and limping, but he was alive, which defied what I was witnessing of the accident scene. I started talking to him right away, and the responses I was getting back, told me the fellow was seriously impaired. The smell of alcohol from the wreckage was substantial, so I knew there were broken bottles somewhere in the toppled van.
     When I helped the man step out of the roadside tangle of small trees, he asked for my help to clean up the scene; specifically the broken beer bottles, at the rear of the van. As I stood there with him, he asked me if I thought he appeared drunk, or if I could smell booze on his breath. He actually started blowing at me, so I could catch a whiff. Yup, the guy smelled like a brewery. I kept interrupting him, asking whether or not there were any passengers with him, at the time of the accident. He assured me, he was the lone occupant of the vehicle, which was a good thing. As for sanitizing the accident scene, as he thought would get him off a D.U.I. charge, I just stepped away, and tried to flag down a passing car. I left someone else at the scene, and drove to the Bala detachment to get assistance. The man was charged like so many others, but had his life spared. If he had run into an oncoming vehicle, during the roll-over, lives could have been lost. It is amazing how impaired drivers are more worried about how the cops are going to deal with them, than about the fact they survived the accident, and were actually able to walk away from the carnage unscathed. You'd think that would be life-altering by itself; and yet, they're most concerned about an impaired driving charge. The fact they may have killed someone, doesn't enter in to it, until they sober up, and face the judge the next day. And possibly see the faces of family in the court room, who have just identified the remains of a loved one, killed in the same accident, the result of impaired driving.
     The most interesting impaired driving incident, occurred in the Township of Muskoka Lakes, one summer night, when a local lad, with too much booze in his system, to be driving, flipped his car on the road, sliding to the edge of a small but significant slope of topography, and somehow, getting snagged by a couple of small evergreens, that kept him safe temporarily. When I arrived on the scene, the tow truck operators had to secure the upside down vehicle, before the ambulance personnel, could get into the car to cut the driver free from the seatbelt, which was also suspending him in a rather awkward position. There was a large crowd of locals gathered below, to watch the rescue, and some of them were the driver's drinking buddies from a tavern down the road. It took quite awhile to secure the vehicle, and then about a half hour to free him from the seatbelt, holding him upside down, staring at the edge of the cliff beside the precariously balanced car. The good news, was that he had escaped injury, at least if the vehicle didn't suddenly break free of the tethers, front and back, holding the vehicle at the top of the embankment.
     I was at the bottom with the rest of the mob, taking photographs. I was shooting with available light, as provided by the fire department, shining lamps on the scene for the benefit of ambulance attendants, trying to get the driver free of the belting; and then, mitigating the impact he was going to have, once freed, hitting down on the ceiling of the overturned car. They then had to inch him down to the fire crewmen waiting below. I didn't want to use my camera flash, for fear of startling the ambulance duo, on a ladder, raised to the window of the perched car. I did attract the attention of his similarly impaired friends, who had come up from the tavern, when news spread their friend had been in an accident. Several of the knobs tried to grab my camera, to pop the film from the back. They didn't succeed, but the angry group wasn't going to stop trying to limit my accessibility, and ability to snap more photographs. It was the first time I had to be placed, for protective custody, in the back of the police cruiser, by Constable Terry Kidd, until the scene was properly secured, the victim removed, and the crowd dispersed.
     Folks, I won't lie. I have driven while impaired. Many times. I was just as stupid and reckless as the folks I've portrayed from real live situations, that have occurred here in rural Ontario. The difference? I didn't have an accident. I didn't inflict suffering on any one else, as a result of my recklessness. Was I lucky to have avoided this kind of ultimate consequence? I don't think luck had anything to do with it! It was fate's rule, that I should survive, to one day write about it, as having been up close and personal, with a most deadly way of drinking and driving. I live with the memory of what I did, every day of my life, but my exceptional circumstance, is that I was never in a drinking and driving related accident, and I was never charged with impaired driving. I straightened out, the day I suffered a black-out, and coming to, realized that I had driven Suzanne, and infant son, Andrew, on a sightseeing trip to St. Peter's Anglican Church, on the Fraserburg Road, in Bracebridge, but had no recollection of how we got there. I even asked Suzanne if she had driven us there, and I got sick to my stomach, when she shook her head, meaning I had somehow, almost blindly, navigated that dangerous stretch of road, with its deep, deep ditches and ravines. It was the occasion that convinced me, I was out of control, as far as drinking, and a menace to everyone, as a drinking driver. By the way, this occurred at one in the afternoon, after I had been playing hockey that morning. Hockey, back then, was only recreational for me, when it involved booze.
     I know how easy it is, to convince yourself, after a half dozen drinks, that you are capable of driving a motor vehicle. I understand why there are drinking drivers, who are repeat offenders. It's what makes me so nervous driving today, as sober as a judge, knowing there are impaired drivers, who didn't intend to drive drunk, but are doing so anyway; and may be coming around the corner, on the wrong side of the road, as I make the approach from the opposite direction. It's been decades since I drove a vehicle while under the influence, but I'm still reminded of the horror I might have created if there had been a collision. I wonder how those people feel, who have been involved in an accident they initiated, by driving impaired, and whether they are repeat offenders, or were scared straight by the carnage of misadventure.
     This morning I found a beer can at the side of our road. On the weekend I found three others, and last Wednesday, I found an empty whiskey bottle, in and around the same place, and it scares the hell out of me. It's going to take something major to occur, for these folks to change their ways; and, then again, maybe they are incapable of learning. I've seen people like this at accident scenes, and honestly, it's pathetic that all they can think about, is self preservation, even when they've injured someone else.
     Where there is tossed-off liquor bottles and beer cans, there is an individual who doesn't give a crap about their own lives, let alone the lives of my family, and all the good folks who reside on our street, because, in their mistaken belief, it is inherently safe and quiet. This is deluded thinking, helped along by people like me, who keep picking up the evidence, before residents can see how prevelent drinking and driving is, in our little neighborhood, a few blocks from the main street of Gravenhurst.