I had a serious car accident when I was a kid. My mother decided not to come to the mountain, it wasn’t her time yet. My father saved us with a quickness of reflexes that I will never forget. My brother experienced the greater damages. I couldn’t understand how it all could’ve happened. He gave a hint of a smile because I was the little brother, that one that had to be safeguarded and not to be left alone with his pain.
The man that bump into us was drunk, over the speed limit and without driving licence. I remember that he greeted me when I was at the hospital and I looked at him in an upset way, I didn’t understand why he decided to hurt us. No jail, no problem, just two cents of insurance policy and back home as if nothing had happened. It was a kind of far west, private revenge was the only way possible. But neither my mother nor my mother considered that way, my brother, still very young, bounced from one hospital to another. I forgot that man instantly. I don’t know who he is, what’s his name, why he tried to kill a family. We’ve moved on, always with the taboo of the accident, scared to feel too great sorrow knowing that in the car it takes only a second to change everything.
The other day, when I read about the murder of the young female motorcyclist in Val Susa, it goes out again all that we do not consider just to go on like nothing happened. I think about the traffic laws adapting more and more to reality. I think about the fact that a car is a death instrument as a bomb and that who committs such acts should not be regarded as a victim because he/she was drunk, took drugs or just separated. The possibility that one’s life could end on the street is higher than that of ending under the grapeshot of a terrorist. So journalists and civilized society we should all be outraged facing such acts and we should battle to make a change.
We should begin not to excuse our friends when they drive “after drinking three glasses”, when they’re too much tired or after they’ve smoked. We should substitute a wheel spin in the car for a smile on the bus.
We should realize a great cultural work that substitutes the image of a hard man equipped with a fast car for a man with a little and ramshackle bike. In short we should let the car to come back to what it is: a simple vehicle, not a symbol of power or richness, not a toy to play with, not an experience to live threatening each other’s safety.
Because only culture can save us from street threat.