In the table above, kindly provided by Austroads for our workshop, we can see part of the problem that occurred in the road safety responses to four deaths on the Kyogle Road near Uki.

This is a major issue that we will seek to address in our Bless This Road workshop on September 30th.

We want to make sure that local authorities (especially in rural areas) have the means and capacity to move beyond conventional thinking and accept a more systemic and up-to-date way of viewing road safety in their municipality.  That approach is embodied in the Safe System (or Vision Zero) model of road safety (see below).

Transport for NSW Centre for Road Safety, 2018

By Wendy Sarkissian, 2016

6 February 2016.
On the Murwillumbah-Kyogle Road, New South Wales, Australia

“Too fast! Oh, God! That white post’s awfully close to the car. Oh, too fast, too fast!”

Smash.

Gliding, floating, flying…

Thud.

Blackness.

A pulse of electric blue light…

I come to my senses in cool, dark water in a muddy river, water rising quickly, rushing through one open window.

Late afternoon summer light is slanting in from above.

Upside down, after seconds that seem like hours, I manage to locate the buckle and unfasten my seat belt. Now I’m upright in the upside-down car, sitting on the roof with water to my chin. Air above, the floor above that.

Somehow, I’ve landed in the back of the car, facing my beloved’s back. My airbag must have thrown me there. He’s in the front, tangled in his seat belt.

I remember fragments of my last words to him in the car: “Oh, sweetie, thank you for the beautiful birthday lunch with our friends. Thank you for loving me for the past 23 years. I love you so much, beloved.” I reached my right hand out to pat his knee.

“Thank you. I’m so glad that made you happy. I love you too, Wadie,” was his delighted response, as he navigated the tight curves of the narrow, slippery rural road.

Now, in the back of the car, I have some air. I am breathing, and my heart is beating. My eyes can see, but dimly.

The front of the car has no air.

After skidding across the road, it had tumbled into the river, landing off-balance on its roof, the front fully submerged.

Karl is sitting up, silhouetted in water dark as chocolate milk. Once I’m free of mine, I make several desperate attempts, but I cannot untangle him from his seatbelt. His swimming hands describe gentle, small circles around his body. Maybe he’s reaching for me. Or maybe he’s unconscious, and that’s the current moving them. I reach forward and grasp one circling hand with my left hand.

Then I hear a shocking gurgle of water, like a large sink emptying, as river water fills his lungs. His head flops to one side. In seconds, he moves from life to lifelessness.

My beloved drowns before me.

He breathes his last breath into the river. This river, source of life to many, has extinguished his life.

Karl! Hold your head up!

I never call him Karl. Except in emergencies. Only “my beloved.”

Screaming at my beloved, only inches from me: “Karl! Hold your head up!”

Is this it, then? The end of all our dreams? Head to one side, lifeless?

My Romani husband hated water. Our honeymoon was the only time I saw him anywhere near it when we shared a celebratory swim. (Although he mostly referred to himself as “Gypsy”, sometimes, explaining cultural matters, Karl would use the proper term, Romani.) “It is in the tradition of the Romani people to avoid water,” he’d repeatedly declare, explaining that for centuries, members of genuine Romani communities avoided water as a gesture of freedom from oppressive bourgeois standards.

Is this the death we fear?

I’m frantic now. My mind is racing. The water’s still rising. It’s rising above my chin. I spin around, grabbing for all doors, but they are firmly stuck.

Karl has powerful talents, I remember. Maybe he has one spell left? Could his unique Romani magic defy natural laws, hex them? We are in an ancient, forgiving river, after all. In a spiritual centre. All we need is one small miracle.

I scream again: “Karl! Hold your head up!” Screaming at a dead man.

Silence now: car, river, the Gypsy, and me. Water rising around and within us.

I will not die in this river.

I take a last look at Karl, now collapsed forward, and dive down to reach the open window on my side. I slide through it, imagining I’ll need powerful strokes to reach the surface light.

I forget to take a breath, taste muddy water, swallow, splutter, and cough. Choking, gasping,

I open my eyes to find myself standing in only a meter of water outside the car.

Already people are crowding the narrow roadside above me.

“He’s drowning!” I scream at them. “Help us! Help us!” I scream. And scream again.

Trembling, barefoot, stumbling, I observe a surreal tableau of airbags, shopping bags, and roadmaps floating slowly through the hatch door, heading gently downstream, responding to the pull of the ocean. I reach for one and stop. How ridiculous!

Then I turn to see two men — later known to me as Rob and Ben — scrambling down the steep, slippery, reedy bank. “Help him, help him,” I yell at them. Rob tries the doors, but they are centrally locked. Ben wrenches a massive stone from the river bank and smashes the back window on Karl’s side. Rob pushes his head into a pocket of air, dives into the muddy water, and feels for the front door lock. He unlocks the front door. Then Ben pulls it open, untangles Karl from his seatbelt, and hauls his lifeless body through the door. They drag him from the river and prop him up on the bank.

I stand alone in the river. Nobody approaches me.

I pray. But nobody can reverse the natural order of things. When several attempts at CPR by Rob and a police officer fail, another police officer announces, first to others (“There’s no pulse”), and then, turning to look down at me (“Madam, I regret to inform you that your husband is deceased”).

The roadside above swarms with emergency vehicles and personnel.

I stand alone in the river.

* * *

Five men struggle for footholds on the bank. They steady a long metal ladder. I lift a bleeding foot onto the first rung. It’s cold. I glance back, terrified I’ll lose my grip and tumble backward.

I will not die in this river.

Partway up, I stop to gaze again at the man I love. I imprint this picture on my mind: my last glimpse. I steady myself and reach my right hand to touch his wrist.

It’s still warm. He is crossing the threshold.

“Love you with all my heart, beloved. You will live in my heart forever,” I whisper.

Fire trucks, ambulances, and police crowd the narrow road above me. Red and blue lights flashing. Small groups of people conferring. Light rain.

On the edge of the road, I stand alone on new ground, negotiating my balance with the Earth. I bend over, vomiting river water, waiting to be loaded into the ambulance.

Then I notice Rob Brims, surrounded by police, wrapped in a ragged towel, also bent over, shivering, sobbing. Dear, sweet man. He risked his life trying to save my beloved. I stumble over and speak to him. Thank him. Say some words: I don’t know what.

In 2016, I wrote to the NSW Coroner requesting a coronial inquest into the death of my husband, Karl Langheinrich. I was gratified that at least he considered my request, although he ultimately decided  not to hold an inquest.

He was satisfied with the information that Tweed Shire Council provided and that they had done a good job.

An inquest would have brought to light many of the issues and factors (including deeply relevant official crash data) that I have unearthed since Karl died in February 2016.

It might have saved another life.

Now I know that the stretch of road where Karl died was a notorious road crash hot spot, as we can see from the table of official crash statistics below.

Four people have been killed there, with a total of 24 incidents and/or casualties in the seven years to 2016.

Had the Coroner considered these figures when I wrote to him (they were readily avilable to him if he only asked), he might have reconsidered.

Here is what I said in my request:

death-of-karl-langheinrich_wendy-sarkissian-inquest-request-281116

Key Points

Among the key points I made are the following:

1. I believe that weaknesses in the investigation of and response to the previous double fatality in the exact spot where Karl died indicate that appropriate consideration is not being given to road infrastructure in road planning in the Tweed Shire. Further, the NSW Coroner, in investigating Karl death, did not fully take into account the circumstances of the earlier crash and fatalities. I believe that there were weaknesses and inconsistences in the approach taken by Tweed Shire Council, the NSW Police and the NSW Coroner’s office, which, taken together, support my request that an inquest be held into Karl Langheinrich’s death.
2. That 2015 crash occurred eight metres from where our vehicle left the road and fell into the Tweed River. I now believe (from an eyewitness account of the 2015 crash I heard firsthand on 17 November 2016), that if the second vehicle in the Bevelander head-on crash had not hit a tree (and stopped there on impact), it would have probably fallen into the river as well, potentially killing several children who were passengers in the van. Further, the Bevelander vehicle was stopped from going over the cliff only by the fact that it hit that van (a much larger vehicle); that impact brought the Bevelander vehicle to a standstill.
3. Local residents (see: http://www.goldcoastbulletin.com.au/news/gold-coast/male-driver-67- dies-after-vw-golf-slides-of-kyogle-road-and-into-tweed-river/news- story/25960ef59a5673df4888edb9927bfb53), local, attending police and other police I spoke to after the crash, reiterated that the crash site is a known dangerous location, where many other vehicles crashes have occurred (not resulting in fatalities).
4. Taking my formal witness statement on 19 February in Nimbin, Constable Brian Rogers noted that, “The location is known for fatal accidents.” (Constable Brian Rogers to Wendy Sarkissian, Nimbin Police Station, 19 February 2016). That view was expressed to me by all the police officers I spoke to following the crash.
5. It has been accepted that the Bevelander fatal crash on 22 January 2015 was a loss-of-control crash on a tight curve (resulting in two fatalities, including one child). It is now widely accepted that unprotected roadsides on slippery roads with tight curves are antithetical to the safe system approach adopted as policy by all Australian Transport Ministers in 2004.
6. A close photographic inspection of the site by Kevin Cracknell (an experienced emergency services worker) three days after the crash and a detailed subsequent photographic and site inspection by me and Kevin Cracknell three weeks after the crash revealed serious deficiencies in the roadway. We noted water pooling and a deteriorated roadway surface, as well as significant wheel rutting on the fog line (which would certainly be the entry point into the corner if water was present in these indentations, as that would also create a potential hazard). Additionally, we observed the presence of debris from previous crashes at the site. At that time, it appeared that the box culvert had recently been blocked. Had the box culvert been blocked or full at the time of the 2016 Langheinrich crash, that would have created a water hazard on the road surface. (Later inspection in 2017 found a spring bursting out on the earth and rock wall where both crashes occurred.)

A spring bursting out on the rock/earth wall:  a probable contributor to water pooling at the edge of Kyogle Road, 2017

7. While the local police have been caring and supportive to me, the actions of the NSW Police Crash Investigation Unit do not reflect a consideration of the seriousness of this issue or and understanding of the clear the relationship between the Langheinrich crash and the Bevelander crash. Most importantly, the lack of attendance by the Crash Investigation Unit at the Langheinrich crash indicates that they did not connect the Langheinrich crash with the previous fatalities at the time and consider that it might be valuable it investigate why there had been three fatalities in exactly the same spot. I was advised by Senior Constable Mick Kelly that, “Murwillumbah police have been trying to get the Accident Investigation Unit to take action on that road for the last twelve months.” (Senior Constable Mick Kelly to Wendy Sarkissian, 14 February 2016).

Other police reported to me following our crash that repeated police requests for action from the Crash Investigation Unit since the first double fatality in 2015 have been ignored.

8. As the Police Crash Investigation Unit did not attend the second crash in 2016, I can only conclude that they did not connect the circumstances and context of this crash with the previous 2015 double fatality (a year earlier). Police told me that the Crash Investigation Unit determined that the fact that it was a single vehicle crash meant that driver error was the reason for the Langheinrich crash. That was their reason for not attending the crash. They did not pay attention to the similar characteristics of the two crashes.

9. A serious question arises for me: what specialist local resources were available to compensate for the fact that the Sydney-based Crash Investigation Unit did not attend? Who else could have been brought in to investigate the February 2016 crash in a professional manner?

Police advised me directly immediately after the crash, that had there been a guardrail in that location, Karl probably would not have died.

10. These are systemic weaknesses that must be addressed by a comprehensive analysis of how the road remained in a dangerous state while so many voices (particularly from local police) were raised in support of repairing that road and installing guardrails.

11. I firmly believe that the NSW Coroner has a responsibility to hold an inquest into Karl Langheinrich’s death, as I believe that the Coroner is also partly responsible for the lack of coordination among agencies and for the significant oversights and neglect that have occurred, contributing to Karl Langheinrich’s death on the Kyogle Road.

By Wendy Sarkissian

 Written for the World Day of Remembrance for Road Traffic Victims,

19 November 2017

Probably our most significant road safety activism involved our contribution to the 2016 World Day of Remembrance for Road Traffic Victims (17 November). Lori Mooren and I held a media event at the Mt. Warning Hotel in Uki (the Uki pub) near the crash site to raise awareness that at least three people had died there and the road had not been repaired.

A couple from the local community attended our media conference. The woman was the driver of the second vehicle involved in a fatal crash in the same location, where six people were injured, including five children. After the speeches, we drove down Kyogle Road and friends attached a huge poster of Karl to a tree near the crash site.

It read, “My name is Karl. I died here. Please slow down.”

And I made another speech by the roadside, begging the municipality to use more sophisticated road planning approaches.[i]

Not all our road-safety activism was media-based. I wrote a lengthy request to the Coroner, detailing weaknesses in road safety protocols, management, and physical design issues and requested a coronial inquiry into Karl’s death. I wrote to several local politicians asking for support for the inquest and they, in turn, lobbied the Minister.

While the Coroner ultimately refused my request, I was grateful that he did fully investigate. And we prepared two academic articles detailing safety concerns with the road.[ii]

The importance of giving road trauma victims opportunities to advocate

These articles highlight the importance of giving road trauma victims opportunities to advocate for more action to improve road safety and identified the systemic fatal injury factors through a safe system lens, arguing that road authority complacency was the real killer in Karl’s case.

I was also responsible for three hard-hitting articles in the local press about safety problems with Kyogle Road.[iii]

What road safety managers may never understand about my advocacy is that the powerful force of the grief that Wendy, Kev and Lori feel is much stronger than their road, their “risk-management” strategies, or their budgets.

In speaking truth to power and shedding tears for Karl, we are “drinking the tears of the Earth” (as Francis Weller puts it).[iv]

We are expressing our grief with dignity.

References

[i] A video by Nicholas Curthoys of our media event, speeches and erecting our poster on the tree is at https://youtu.be/FyI5jNqqYdE.

[ii] See:  Mooren, L. & Sarkissian, W. (2017). “We need a louder road safety voice.” World Transport Policy and Practice, 22(4): 83-95. Retrieved from http://worldtransportjournal.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/27th-Feb-opt.pdf ; Mooren, L. with Sarkissian, W.  (2017). “Tragic failure of a road system: an Australian example.” Journal of the Australasian College of Road Safety, 28(1): 58-63. Retrieved from http://acrs.org.au/journals/february-2017-vol-28-no-1/

[iii] “Widow begs council to improve road safety,” Gold Coast Bulletin, 14 November 2016. http://www.goldcoastbulletin.com.au/news/traffic-reports/tweed-shire-council-black-spot-funding-bittersweet-for-widow-of-man-killed-at-notorious-kyogle-rd-corner/news-story/cc0b701f0d57320dc049fc68024a57a8

Dwayne Grant, “Tweed Shire Council: Widow calls for inquest to address council ‘weaknesses’ on Uki road safety,” Gold Coast Bulletin 29 March 2017. http://www.goldcoastbulletin.com.au/news/council/tweed-shire-council-widow-calls-for-inquest-to-address-council-weaknesses-on-uki-road-safety/news-story/6006c58ec5740a148b8a7c7b61b33109

Dwayne Grant, “Tweed Shire Council black spot funding ‘bittersweet’ for widow of man killed at notorious Kyogle Rd corner,” Gold Coast Bulletin, June 14, 2017 (http://www.goldcoastbulletin.com.au/news/traffic-reports/tweed-shire-council-black-spot-funding-bittersweet-for-widow-of-man-killed-at-notorious-kyogle-rd-corner/news-story/cc0b701f0d57320dc049fc68024a57a8)

[iv] Weller, F. “Drinking the Tears of the Earth”: http://riteofpassagejourneys.org/resources/for-participants/drinking-the-tears-of-the-world-grief-as-deep-activism/at_download/file

Many other people are campaigning for road safety in Australia and overseas. Here are just a few examples.

FEVR

Shortly after our crash, I began to focus on the dangerous rural road where Karl died. I am blessed with a close friend, Dr. Lori Mooren, a widely experienced road safety expert. As my interest in road safety grew, I discovered the ground-breaking activism of the European Federation of Road Traffic Victims (FEVR). The efforts of FEVR and London-based RoadPeace focus on improving the justice system’s post-crash responses. FEVR member organizations (24 at present) emphasise the importance of sharing grief and anger about lenient treatment and the value of learning from people who have suffered. FEVR also engages in advocacy to defend the rights of crash victims, wisely acknowledging that “the bereaved and injured need assistance and information to help them cope with the crash … but support services for victims of crime do not always extend to road crash victims.”

Brake

Also in the UK is Brake, a road safety charity. They argue that, “every 30 seconds someone, somewhere in the world is killed in a road crash.” Brake works to stop road deaths and injuries by campaigning for safer roads. It supports people bereaved or injured in road crashes, and raises public awareness for sustainable transport. In June 2018, Brake welcomed a government move to address drink-driving in the UK. However, they argued that “enforcement needs to be complemented by stronger policy — we’ll continue to campaign for a zero-tolerance approach to drink-driving.”

SARAH

In Australia, the Sarah Group (now Safer Australian Roads and Highways: SARAH) was established by her father, Peter Frazer, to honour Sarah Frazer and campaign for changes to policy and legislation to ensure that lives are not lost in preventable and situations like the one that took her life. In 2012, Sarah was a victim of a tragic crash that could easily have been prevented with more intelligent and safer road planning. When her car broke down, she organised for a tow-truck driver to assist her. However, while he was hooking up the car, a truck side-swiped Sarah’s car and collided with the pair, killing both instantly. SARAH’s call to action is: “Road Safety Champions! Commit to Drive So Others Survive!”

Smiling for Smiddy

Close to my heart are the brilliant and powerful messages communicated by a survivor mission beloved by my dear friend, Andrew Curthoys.

Until Karl died, I paid little attention to Andrew’s long and excruciating bicycle rides to raise money for cancer research. They seemed like a brave (and perhaps reckless) enterprise. Now I welcome Andrew as another person engaged in a survivor mission: the Smiddy Challenge. When 26-year-old Adam Smiddy, a talented Australian triathlete and physiotherapist, died from melanoma in 2006, his mates committed to fighting cancer. Since 2006, the Smiling for Smiddy volunteers have raised more than $AUD7 million for cancer research at Brisbane’s Mater Hospital. Also a survivor,

Andrew is honouring his father. In eight days in August and September 2017, 49 riders (including Andrew) and a road crew of 16 (many of whom had lost friends or family members to cancer) raised $AUD300,000 on a gruelling 1581-kilometre ride from Townsville to Brisbane. The ride is a triumph of camaraderie, guts, and determination. There were tears in my eyes as I heard Andrew explain:

I’m riding to honour my Dad, who lost his battle with melanoma-related cancer in 2006. While I was preparing for the 2015 challenge, Mum was diagnosed with kidney cancer. In our family of six, three have had cancer. My brother and I have had many basal cell carcinomas removed…. I’m riding to help raise funds for cancer research.

Reflecting on these initiatives, we might ask ourselves:

• Do I have such a project in my heart and mind that would honour my loved one?

Or:

• Could I invent or build on such a project?

References

FEVR: http://fevr.org/

RoadPeace: www.roadpeace.org. RoadPeace helps bereaved families cope and build resilience through our peer support, local group networks, and trauma support programs. They also provide information guides on navigating the justice system and help with seeking fair compensation for bereaved families and seriously injured victims.

Brake:  http://www.brake.org.uk/component/tags/tag/road-safety

SARAH: http://www.sarahgroup.org/sarahs-story

Smiling for Smiddy: https://www.smiddy.org.au

For a grieving person, a survivor mission must include the opportunity for emotional highs. Probably our most potent activist moment occurred on the 2016 World Day of Remembrance for Road Traffic Victims.

Lori Mooren and I held a media conference at the Mt. Warning Hotel in Uki near the crash site to raise awareness that three people (actually, four people but we did not know that then) had died there, and still no repairs had been made. In our meeting was a local woman who had been driving the second vehicle involved in fatal Bevelander crash.

Weeping, she told us how five Aboriginal children were nearly killed in that crash.

Later, we attached a huge poster with a photo of Karl to a tree near the crash site. It read, “My name is Karl. I died here. Please slow down.”

I got that idea came from reading about roadside shrines or Roadside Death Memorials (RDMs) (also called wayside shrines) in France and other countries, including Canada. They are seen as valuable ways to express grief: a healthy part of the grieving system outside the accepted order of funeral parlours and conventional rituals. To highlight the dangers of that stretch of road, we wanted to erect a permanent sign with a photo of Karl on it, but it was not permitted.

I made another impassioned speech to camera by the roadside, begging the municipality to use more sophisticated road planning approaches.

Lots of tears and laughter in a long afternoon celebrating with local friends on the verandah of Uki’s Mt Warning Hotel honoured Karl’s unique approach to activism, his Giveaway, in a manner that certainly would have met his approval.

The good news is that our activism succeeded. The road has been repaired.

Sources

Belshaw, J. and D. Purvey, 2009, Private Grief, Public Mourning: The Rise of the Roadside Shrine in British Columbia.

See New South Wales, Department of Roads and Maritime Services, 2016, Roadside Tributes: http://www.rms.nsw.gov.au/documents/roads/using-roads/roadside-tributes-factsheet.pdf

A video by Nicholas Curthoys of our November 2016 media event, speeches and erecting our poster on the tree, is at: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyI5jNqqYdE

A turning point

My first act of road safety activism — delivering my self-styled Victim Impact Statement to Tweed Shire Council, the municipal road authority responsible for the road where Karl died — was a revelation. It was the first real turning point in my healing. Until that moment (more than seven months after Karl’s death), I felt utterly washed-up professionally and intellectually, confident I would never again chair a meeting, speak publicly, write or work professionally. I collaborated with two friends, Lori Mooren and Kev Cracknell, and, as our road safety campaign expanded and we started to see results, I began to imagine that I might flourish again.

I firmly believed that I had survived for a reason.

So how could I move forward in my life with a cognitive impairment that made me feel incompetent, hopeless, and directionless?

New power

Now I sensed a power that drew on the initiative, energy, and resourcefulness I feared I had lost forever. Because I was undertaking my new advocacy work with close friends (“in community”), I experienced an alliance based on cooperation and a shared purpose. With Lori and Kev, I gained a sense of connection that was deeper than we had before; it brought out the best in all three of us. And I was getting my hands dirty with the emotions that frightened me.

My two friends and I worked together to raise awareness about the design, management, and condition of the rural road where Karl died and to lobby for road planning and funding to repair it. Later, we lobbied for better road planning generally: a more sophisticated and up-to-date “safe systems” approach. Initially, as we considered our activist options, our collective emotions were a bewildering mix of guilt, despair, confusion, anger, frustration, powerlessness, sadness, and a desire for justice: an outcome that would help others and save lives.

Although we did not know it when we began our organic process, we were well equipped to do this work (with a history of community activism and advocacy, emergency services experience, knowledge of road planning, design, management and safety, community engagement and empowerment, and municipal governance and planning). We had complementary skills: a balance of professional, on-the-ground experience, and academic knowledge. We were naturally a good team. The experience was powerfully healing for me because it was easier for me to speak out in the company of friends than in my lonely, mourning voice.

Delivering my Victim Impact Statement helped build my competence and confidence. Soon our “small wins” buoyed us up. We were careful not to be tied to the notion of results. So, for example, we did not despair when the Coroner refused my request for a coronial inquest. He chose to believe what the Council told him about road changes following Karl’s death. We believed that our inquiries had at least heightened the Coroner’s awareness of some critical system-wide road safety and monitoring issues in the Tweed Shire.

You can read a copy of the Statement here:

wendy-sarkissian-victim-impact-statement_final

The humour we experienced in our encounters also healed us; often we found ourselves laughing through our tears. Now we feel empowered and emboldened. The quality I missed the most — my courage — slowly began to return.

More tragedy

Amazingly, just six days after our meeting, another car plummeted into the river, landing upside-down. That driver survived because that part of the river was shallow at that time.

See: http://www.tweedvalleyweekly.net.au/car-crashes-tweed-river/

Then, a week later, on 7 October 2016, a crash between a car and a motorcycle on Kyogle Road not far from that same spot claimed the life of the motorcyclist: a 43-year-old man.

https://www.northernstar.com.au/news/collison-between-car-and-motorbike-leaves-one-in-h/3098613/

That made a total of four fatalities on the same corner in 20 months.

Sometimes there’s nothing like a bit of data to make a case — or strengthen an argument.  When it comes to the stretch of Kyogle Road between Braeside Drive and Glenock Road, some 650 metres, I have wondered since February 2016 if that was a particularly dangerous place.

That stretch of road that claimed three lives I knew about — probably four. But was it really that dangerous?

Now I have reliable data to show that it is/or was. Blessedly, that whole stretch has been repaired by Tweed Shire– with a guardrail.

I thank them for doing that.

It will open next month.

But when I look at the data for that road, I ask myself, what would Karl say?

Maybe he’d say something like, “Holy crap!” Or “OMG!” Or “I can’t believe it.”

Or, more likely, knowing Karl, he’d say: “I knew it all the time.”

An act of self-sacrifice

On my sad days, missing him so much that my heart is aching in my chest, I imagine that Karl’s death was an act of martyrdom, of self-sacrifice. Having driven that stretch of Kyogle Road hundreds of times (maybe a thousand times) for fifteen years, he knew how dangerous it was. He knew it would claim more live if it wasn’t repaired.

AND maybe he knew that I and his friends would try to do something about it. If he gave us just one more shred of evidence: his precious life.

Kyogle Road, Uki, NSW

Some simple statistics

Let’s take a look at some simple statistics (not about Kyogle Road — I’ll come to that later):

What about undivided 2-lane roads? Look at this table.

What does that table tell us about how dangerous 2-lane rural roads are?

Road Deaths

Or let’s look at this, just comparing percentages of deaths on roads in one municipality with the rest of New South Wales:

In both 2015 and 2017, Tweed Shire had a much higher percentage of road deaths than the rest of the RMS Northern Region or the whole of New South Wales — by as much as 9%.

Something is wrong here.

Something is wrong here.

Is anyone looking at these data and asking: “What can we do about people being killed on these dangerous rural roads?”

Notice I am not saying “fatalities”. These are real people who are bleeding to death on our rural roads.

They are dying.

These are deaths. Dead people who used to be alive.

Then let’s look at this image:

A lovely country road. Or so it seems.

To the expert eye, however, it’s a disaster waiting to happen.

Look at this map:

Here are the data to support that map above:

What about the weather as a factor in road casualties (see below for 2010 to 2016)?

*  *  *

I am a crash survivor, not a road planner or manager.

But I reckon that Blind Freddy can see the problem just from looking at available data.

There is more to road safety than encouraging safe driver behaviour.

There’s something wrong with our rural roads.

And, I for one, want to fix that problem so that no more beautiful people die on our roads.

No more dead people on our rural roads.

Is anyone listening?