Michael Botta

Last night I stopped to help a man on the Williamsburg Bridge who had just crashed with another bike, spitting up blood, one of his fingers severed at the joint, cuts across his face. As he tried to stand he swayed to and fro, falling over from the effort, so I yelled "hablas español?" and told him firmly in Spanish to sit down, then translated between him and the people who had already called 911 while yelling at passing walkers and bikers for a clean towel to stop the bleeding. It took 25 minutes for EMS to arrive, no one could seem to find a towel, and I felt I wasn't doing enough, but I knew some action would be better than no action. So we stood there in the aftermath waiting, trembling with the bridge as the subways passed below, waving our arms to try to avoid getting run over ourselves by the powered vehicles of all sorts that were barreling down the bridge towards me and the two other women who had stopped to help. The man was the fourth bloodied person in need of dire medical assistance I’ve seen on this bridge so far this summer, and I only bike across occasionally. There is not a day I cross where I don't see a near miss, the same five-foot opening where a father crosses carrying his daughter in his arms while someone whizzes past at 45mph on what most people would see and call a motorcycle. Something needs to be done to enforce safe cycling across the bridge and keep the motorcycles off it, to protect the people walking and biking across. @NYCmayor what can we do here?