I was biking over the Williamsburg bridge from the city towards Brooklyn this evening around 6:30pm, when I heard some kids say something about a body. Sure enough, right about halfway up the bridge in the outermost traffic lane on the Manhattan-bound side,  several police officers stood over a recently laid white sheet covering a man’s body lying in the road. He wore white sneakers and cutoff jean shorts. I didn’t shy away from the scene. On the contrary, I wanted to see the details, to feel what had happened. I gazed at the sheet, making out the outline of his body. His smashed, red Vespa-type scooter was on its side a few feet away. A black sedan was parked a few yards behind the scooter, it’s windscreen and hood smashed in. The CS photographer looked up and saw the group of us watching, and pointed it out to the other cops who immediately yelled “you better keep moving!”, so I continued along the bike path.

I kept thinking about all the near misses I’d had riding my bike in New York City over the past nine years. Every time I come upon an accident or a ghost bike, it makes me very pensive. As I write this, most of the people that knew him are still oblivious to the fact that he is dead. An hour and a half ago, he was alive. Did the driver of the car not see him? Did he lose his balance, and hit the wall before he hit the car? Why was it his time to die? What determines the near miss, the hospital stay, maybe a lost limb or use of a sense, from the complete break from life that is death? Why didn’t he make it? Why him? Was it his time? Or is that nonsense - life is Russian Roulette, and sooner or later, the ‘click’ we all take for granted is replaced with a swift push into the next world, whatever that is.

Why is this affecting me so much, anyway? It happens everyday, thousands of times a minute around the world. Violently, peacefully, intentionally, accidentally, quietly, loudly, inevitably, unexpectedly, or self inflicted. Maybe it’s because that kid could have been me or any of my friends who ride in traffic.

Who were you, man? To the dude who recently died on the Williamsburg bridge this evening: may your transition to whatever comes next be peaceful, and may those who knew you feel joy again soon.

*update*  From Gothamist, his name is Josh Link, he was a DJ. RIP brother.