Osler's Razor

On Friday, I was driving out of Detroit on I-94 (which pretty much takes me all the way back to my home in Minnesota) when I noticed something odd: There was no traffic coming the other way. There was no construction in the area, and nothing else to explain it. Then I got to a line of police cars blocking the entire interstate in the other direction, and what looked like debris and a body bag.

A motorcyclist had been speeding, and weaving between vehicles. He miscalculated one diagonal cut between vehicles, crashed, and died instantly. I was seeing the aftermath.

I've known people who have made choices like that-- to do something so risky that there was a pretty good chance of instant death. Some of those who make such a choice are applauded for it (soldiers, firefighters, extreme skiers), while others (people who rob a gas station, heroin users) are condemned for it. It is right to distinguish between the two groups, of course, but I think a common bond often unites them: they do not think that they will be the one to die.

But they do. They often die instantly.

But is it really instant? Or is there a brief moment of recognition, of what is happening? For some reason, I think there must be that slim sliver of time, of knowing.  The final heartbeat.

And what should be that last thought?