Portable Grill For The Taking

Today, sitting on the grass at the southwest corner of 19th & L Streets in Sacramento, next to the City Suds Laundromat, sits a small portable Weber barbeque grill for the taking.

How it got there is a curious story.

I was driving west on L Street about 11:15 a.m., just approaching the red light at 19th Street, when a man (age of about 28), who had been cradling the portable grill in his arms while bicycling south on 19th Street, lost control, began slipping off his bicycle, missed the wheelchair cut in the curb, instead slammed into the curb, and fell unconscious onto L Street. Several people, including myself, parked to see if they could render aid.

The first fellow on the scene immediately called 911. I was second on the scene. As the first fellow talked to the emergency responders, I picked up the barbeque and reassembled it on the grass. Then I went to see if I could rouse the unconscious man and ascertain whether, or how badly, he was hurt.

In response to a question from some new pedestrian arrivals, the 911 caller stated either that he had just called the Fire Department or that the Fire Department would arrive soon. The unconscious bicyclist, upon hearing the words "Fire Department" immediately roused, jumped to his feet, and said: "No way am I going to let the Fire Department inject me with insulin! No way! Fuck that!" The bicyclist, by now quite irritable and angry, quickly tried to cycle off, but was foiled by minor damage to his rear brake, among other things. He began walking back to the street corner, perhaps to challenge us, perhaps to argue, but held his temper in check when he saw an arriving police car.

I immediately tried to talk sense to the bicyclist and slow his departure by holding firmly onto the bicycle handle. "You aren't feeling well," I said. "You were unconscious in the street for more than a minute!" He replied "I am NOT going to let the Fire Department shoot me up with insulin!" He said it with authority, as if he had already experienced the tender mercies of Fire Department insulin injection and wasn't looking forward to another such experience.

Meanwhile, I was doing an awkward kind of dance, employing stern persuasion while trying to arrest the fellow while simultaneously holding his bicycle upright so he could reassemble the rear brake, and helpfully pointing out broken pieces to him, such as the broken tail reflector lying in the grass.

The bicyclist prepared to take off just as the cop arrived on the scene on foot. Since the bicyclist seemed to be now in full control of his faculties the cop allowed him to depart.

Several of us quickly explained to the cop what had happened. One fellow said he had seen the bicyclist cycling dangerously just before the accident, e.g., by carelessly pulling in front of cars that had the right-of-way. The cop nodded to signal he understood. The fellow who had first alerted 911 called them back to cancel the call.

The Fire Department arrived just as everyone began leaving. A bit bewildered, the driver of the ladder truck stopped in the middle lane of L Street, looked at the more-or-less empty intersection, and tried to puzzle out how to respond. I went over to the driver, informed him that the 911 call had just been cancelled, and briefly explained what had happened. When the driver asked where the bicyclist had gone, I pointed south and said "He went that-a-way!"

But in all the fuss, the small portable Weber barbeque grill got overlooked. It's still there, sitting on the grass, and presuming the irritable cyclist doesn't return for it, it's free to a good home.