One recent evening, I decided to strap on my hiking boots and go out in the snow to enjoy the brisk night air. I took one of my film cameras and a tripod, expecting a nice, relaxing walk. However, Brooklyn had something a bit different in mind. As I was waiting for a long exposure to finish for the shot below, a man came running up to me.

“Are you a photographer?” he asked urgently, hands full of grocery bags. Uh, do you see my tripod, man? “You gotta go over there! There’s been an accident!” He pointed to the north side of the Prospect Expressway, where I could see lights flashing from the highway down below. I finished up the shot, collapsed the tripod, and ran to the fence where he’d pointed.

I watched as the first of many fire trucks arrived on the scene. I could see straight down into the car that had ricocheted off the median in the west-bound lane; there was a young woman in the driver’s seat, moving slightly. No firefighter approached the car until they shut down traffic, and cars continued to speed by the smoking fender.

Finally, the rescue workers approached the car, spoke brief words of reassurance, and prepared her a gurney for the ambulance. She was speaking and the firefighters were smiling as they safely loaded her up for the hospital.

I, on the other hand, was running out of film, but managed to snag a shot of the traffic backup before hiking home. Let’s hear it for the MTA. I love the subway.