A few nights back was a so-called “Super Moon”, a full moon which was supposed to be an extra 30% bright compared to ordinary ones presumably known as “Confidence-challenged Moons”. The “Super Moon” is also sometimes referred to as the “Full Buck Moon”, mostly I assume by bartenders who want to laugh at drunks trying to say it four times quickly as a tongue twister.
Anyway, my family and I went out to look at the moon from our sidewalk, and ended up seeing something more attention-grabbing. A high-speed police chase. As I later found out, there was a violent armed robbery going on just a couple of blocks away while we were staring up at the night sky. At the time though, we only knew our street was abuzz with police cars. What was alarming however, was how eye-opening were the revelations it showed me about myself.
The chase happened fairly quickly. Urgent sounding sirens approached; seconds later flashing blue lights and strobing headlights appeared on the horizon and quickly screamed down the middle of the road right by us. Before that cruiser got to the traffic lights beyond us, more sirens sounded and another police car sped along past our house. Then a third, every bit as vehement in its travels as the first two. I watched them pass, making note of the trivial: one of the cars was a typical Ford Crown Victoria, another was a Dodge Magnum wagon, and the other was a Chevy SUV.
A few seconds later a fourth cruiser flashed by and then things got really wild. Just beyond our house, it pulled a U-turn and headed back our way hot on the heels of a car that had swerved into the lane. They sped by us going at least 70 if a mile per hour. Within a few more seconds the three other police vehicles, plus one more, swept back around the corner and joined the pursuit. I yelled at my love to get away from the curb, all too aware that it's too easy to become collateral damage in one of these events. Happily, we were all fine.
One of the few times the little boy inside ever appears is with flashing lights, sirens and speeding cars awakening him. My adrenalin rushed and I hypothesized about what the suspects had done.
After they left the field of view and the sirens had faded though, I tried to replay the scene in my head and found I'd be a startlingly bad witness. I noticed the police vehicles, certainly remembered the fourth one pull the U-ey, but I couldn't really recall where the chased car came from. I thought it might have been being chased to begin with and pulled a 180, but really only noticed it when it swerved quickly into the curb lane up from us. It looked as if the driver nearly lost control of it and its gunning acceleration made it clear it was the subject of the police attention. All the other civilian cars were either pulling over or at least slowing down to a well-clocked crawl (human nature being what it is makes most drivers look right at the speedometer when they see flashing lights or hear sirens even though a police car rushing to a call is probably the one least likely to ever notice someone doing 40 in a 35 zone); this car was speeding and swerving. Reading about the crime later on, I found the car had sped out of a commercial driveway just short of the intersection and cut across traffic, obviously attracting the notice of the police who turned around.
Notice I say “the car”. That is about as best I could describe it. Despite it being the obvious subject of an urgent call and police chase, and the fact it sped by me no more than twenty feet from my face, about all I could reliably remember was that it was a car. Mid-sized. Not a truck, not a bike or van. Nothing too unusual. As for color, I knew it wasn't white, nor black. Was it gray? Powder blue? Couldn't remember. Green with white polka dots? Unlikely, but I couldn't swear it wasn't.
It was eye-opening to me to realize how closed my eyes were! I usually figure I have good observational skills. I am a photographer, trained to pay attention to detail. I like birding and half that involves noticing things like the color of feathers on the tail of a five-inch long bird four storeys up in an oak tree. I can distinguish a type of hawk soaring over a forest a quarter mile away while I”m in a car doing highway speed; I train my eye to notice the hamburger wrapper in the field and get rid of it before taking a photo of a patch of flowers. But I couldn't tell you if a car being chased was a brown four-door Ford or a blue two-door Kia.
The Invisible Gorilla is a book that looks at the phenomena. The title comes from experiments conducted where people are told to watch a short video of a basketball game and count the number of shots taken by one of the teams. During the game, someone dressed in a gorilla costume walks across the court, stops, beats it chest and saunters off. Most participants accurately kept track of the number of shots at the net but totally missed the ape. Few saw the monkey, but all were sure their observational skills mean they would see one until the testers proved them wrong.
Bill Cosby once noted “every closed eye is not sleeping; every open eye is not seeing.” What opened my eyes is that sometimes seeing is not believing.
As a postscript, the chased car got away unfortunately. It was a four-door sedan, “gold-colored or tan” according to police who were unable to give a a more specific description themselves.
Anyway, my family and I went out to look at the moon from our sidewalk, and ended up seeing something more attention-grabbing. A high-speed police chase. As I later found out, there was a violent armed robbery going on just a couple of blocks away while we were staring up at the night sky. At the time though, we only knew our street was abuzz with police cars. What was alarming however, was how eye-opening were the revelations it showed me about myself.
The chase happened fairly quickly. Urgent sounding sirens approached; seconds later flashing blue lights and strobing headlights appeared on the horizon and quickly screamed down the middle of the road right by us. Before that cruiser got to the traffic lights beyond us, more sirens sounded and another police car sped along past our house. Then a third, every bit as vehement in its travels as the first two. I watched them pass, making note of the trivial: one of the cars was a typical Ford Crown Victoria, another was a Dodge Magnum wagon, and the other was a Chevy SUV.
A few seconds later a fourth cruiser flashed by and then things got really wild. Just beyond our house, it pulled a U-turn and headed back our way hot on the heels of a car that had swerved into the lane. They sped by us going at least 70 if a mile per hour. Within a few more seconds the three other police vehicles, plus one more, swept back around the corner and joined the pursuit. I yelled at my love to get away from the curb, all too aware that it's too easy to become collateral damage in one of these events. Happily, we were all fine.
One of the few times the little boy inside ever appears is with flashing lights, sirens and speeding cars awakening him. My adrenalin rushed and I hypothesized about what the suspects had done.
After they left the field of view and the sirens had faded though, I tried to replay the scene in my head and found I'd be a startlingly bad witness. I noticed the police vehicles, certainly remembered the fourth one pull the U-ey, but I couldn't really recall where the chased car came from. I thought it might have been being chased to begin with and pulled a 180, but really only noticed it when it swerved quickly into the curb lane up from us. It looked as if the driver nearly lost control of it and its gunning acceleration made it clear it was the subject of the police attention. All the other civilian cars were either pulling over or at least slowing down to a well-clocked crawl (human nature being what it is makes most drivers look right at the speedometer when they see flashing lights or hear sirens even though a police car rushing to a call is probably the one least likely to ever notice someone doing 40 in a 35 zone); this car was speeding and swerving. Reading about the crime later on, I found the car had sped out of a commercial driveway just short of the intersection and cut across traffic, obviously attracting the notice of the police who turned around.
Notice I say “the car”. That is about as best I could describe it. Despite it being the obvious subject of an urgent call and police chase, and the fact it sped by me no more than twenty feet from my face, about all I could reliably remember was that it was a car. Mid-sized. Not a truck, not a bike or van. Nothing too unusual. As for color, I knew it wasn't white, nor black. Was it gray? Powder blue? Couldn't remember. Green with white polka dots? Unlikely, but I couldn't swear it wasn't.
It was eye-opening to me to realize how closed my eyes were! I usually figure I have good observational skills. I am a photographer, trained to pay attention to detail. I like birding and half that involves noticing things like the color of feathers on the tail of a five-inch long bird four storeys up in an oak tree. I can distinguish a type of hawk soaring over a forest a quarter mile away while I”m in a car doing highway speed; I train my eye to notice the hamburger wrapper in the field and get rid of it before taking a photo of a patch of flowers. But I couldn't tell you if a car being chased was a brown four-door Ford or a blue two-door Kia.
The Invisible Gorilla is a book that looks at the phenomena. The title comes from experiments conducted where people are told to watch a short video of a basketball game and count the number of shots taken by one of the teams. During the game, someone dressed in a gorilla costume walks across the court, stops, beats it chest and saunters off. Most participants accurately kept track of the number of shots at the net but totally missed the ape. Few saw the monkey, but all were sure their observational skills mean they would see one until the testers proved them wrong.
Bill Cosby once noted “every closed eye is not sleeping; every open eye is not seeing.” What opened my eyes is that sometimes seeing is not believing.
As a postscript, the chased car got away unfortunately. It was a four-door sedan, “gold-colored or tan” according to police who were unable to give a a more specific description themselves.