On Tuesday 17 August 2004 15:13, Jed Rothwell wrote:
> See:
>
> http://www.nytimes.com/2004/08/17/business/17auto.html?hp
>
> "Safety Gap Grows Wider Between S.U.V.'s and Cars"
>
>
> Summary:
>
> Death rate for various vehicle types, per 1 billion miles traveled:
>
> Minivans, 2.76
>
> Large passenger cars and station wagons, averaging about 3,600 pounds
> unloaded, 3.3
>
> The largest, "tanklike" sport utility vehicles, average 5,100 pounds
> unloaded, 3.79
>
> Midsize cars, average 3,000 pounds, 5.26
>
> Midsize S.U.V.'s, "by far the most popular type," average weight over 4,000
> pounds, 6.73
>
> - Jed
That death rate for minivans I will not argue with. But when it happens, it
is quite messy. An accident occured near my home about 12 years ago on
a rainy night. A carload of drunks left a nearby night club heading for our
closest town. One of its passengers had 'hitched' a ride in it as his date
had left without him and stranded him. They never made it to town.
The accident happened in front of a meat packing plant with a statue of
a pink pig in front of it. The boozemobile and its passengers crossed the
center line in front of a minivan coming from town and heading back home
to a neighboring town after a civic awards ceremony. The van's passengers
were a factory owner and his factory manager and their families. Over seven
people were in the van.
We saw the emergency lights while coming home when we approached a
nearby intersection. Curious, I drove us to a bit closer and then stopped so
as not to interfere with rescue efforts. There was no rescue. Over 13
people died on that spot. I saw the state police pull the victims out of the
cars. They did not even look damaged, but they were all dead. Evidently the
blunt force trauma of the 100 mph relative speed collision killed them
instantly, stopping their hearts, hence very little bleeding. The police
were rough, pulling the victims out like slabs of meat and dumping them
roughly on the highway. The meatpackers up the hill would have done no
different to their hogs brought in to make ribs and chops. The men and
women, clothes and dresses all askew, lay in a sodden and lonely heap in the
rain on the wet road, lipstick and water and aftershave and whisky and urine
all mixing in a malodorous runnoff of lives shattered in a flash, testament
to our ability to create instant banal mayhem on a country road and treat it
like a pizza run.
sadly the statistics do not tell the human factor very well
Standing Bear
