Preventing Pedestrian Injuries

This post about vehicular safety might save your life. Whether you drive, ride, or walk, vehicular safety should concern you. Too many people learn the hard way how badly vehicular accidents can harm your health and impact your life .

A recent article from KFF Health News about “older pedestrians” caught my eye since my husband and I now meet the definition of “older”. But concerns about pedestrian safety apply to anyone whose ability to safely cross a street might be compromised. This could include

  • a parent pushing a stroller or walking with a toddler
  • a young person using a mobility device, like a cane, walker, or wheelchair
  • a person with a visual or hearing impairment

While anyone can be a pedestrian victim, older age makes recovery longer and less certain. As the article points out, we have “greater frailty, loss of muscle mass and fragile bones”. Add to that underlying chronic illnesses such as diabetes, heart and vascular disorders, lung disease, and immune dysfunction make us significantly more vulnerable as we age.

1312 pedestrians are injured by vehicles every week.

There are 20 pedestrian fatalities every day.

Why Older Pedestrians Fare Worse in Car Crashes

By Paula Span, Aug 28, 2026, republished from KFF Health News

On an August morning two years ago, Meredith Melville was crossing Piedmont Avenue in Oakland, California, to meet a friend at a cafe. While in the crosswalk, she noticed a car some distance away.

Perhaps she misjudged its speed, she said, because she’d walked only partway across the street when the car, a Toyota sedan, came bearing down on her.

“She should have seen me,” Melville said of the driver. “All of a sudden she was there, and I didn’t have any way to get out of her way. I flew I don’t know how many feet.”

Passersby came to help; the police and an ambulance arrived. Soon Melville, a retired teacher, was at a hospital being treated for multiple fractures. Surgeons replaced her right hip and repaired her broken right elbow. She would probably need a knee replacement soon, too, doctors advised.

After a week’s hospitalization and a month in rehabilitation, Melville, then 73, went home in a wheelchair. Physical therapists helped her gradually progress to a walker and then a cane, but “it was a long process,” she said.

She still contends with back and knee pain and hasn’t been able to resume the hiking and backpacking she loved.

Still, when people say she’s lucky, Melville agrees. “It could have been a lot worse,” she said.

It often is.

Older pedestrians, like Melville, aren’t injured by motor vehicles at a greater rate than younger ones, according to 2023 data from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration.
But they’re more likely to die.

KFF Health News

Older Pedestrians=Greater Risk

The death rate for pedestrians over 65 is higher than the average for all ages. Nearly 8,200 pedestrians 65 or older were injured that year — likely an undercount because not all serious crashes and injuries show up in police reports. More than 1,500 died. And the picture is not improving.

Researchers point out that older pedestrians remain more vulnerable to collisions. “They move through intersections at a slower pace,” said Andrew Rundle, an epidemiologist at Columbia University. Impaired hearing or vision can make them less apt to notice approaching vehicles or respond to traffic signals. And because reaction time slows with age, they’re less able to evade a car that’s turning, speeding, or ignoring a signal.

Physically, they “have greater frailty, loss of muscle mass and fragile bones,” Rundle said.

As a result, “the consequences of injuries are stratospherically different the older you get,” said Charles DiMaggio, an injury epidemiologist at the New York University Grossman School of Medicine.

“A hip fracture in a 45-year-old is unfortunate. In a 75-year-old, it’s tragic.”

Moreover, after a marked decline in pedestrian deaths among all age groups from 1975 to the mid-2000s, progress for the older population has stalled for nearly 20 years.

Data from the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety shows that from about 2008 through 2024 the fatality rate for pedestrians 70 and older was not only higher than the average for all ages but “has stayed stubbornly flat,” Rundle said.

More Walking-Good and Bad

One factor could be exposure: Older adults appear increasingly likely to be outdoors on foot. The National Health and Aging Trends Study shows that the proportion who report walking for exercise climbed to 65% in 2023, from 60% in 2011. “And we encourage them to, because quality of life includes daily physical activity,” said Stephen Mooney, an injury epidemiologist at the University of Washington.

Further, the increasing popularity of large SUVs and trucks means “the vehicles on the road have become more dangerous” compared to traditional sedans, Rundle said. In June, a New York Times investigation documented the way their taller hoods and larger blind zones contributed to rising fatalities.

Growth of Electric Bicycle Use

The latest threat: explosive growth in the use of e-bikes. That’s a generic term often used to refer not only to motor-assisted bicycles that, with pedaling, can reach 28 mph but also to heavier, faster, and, therefore, more dangerous bikes akin to motorcycles. The industry has dubbed those e-motos.

“E-motos need to be regulated like motor vehicles,” said Noah Miterko of the trade association PeopleforBikes, noting that states and cities are taking steps to police their sale and use. From 2019 to 2022, the rate of e-bike injuries increased by nearly 300%, according to an analysis of emergency room data published in the American Journal of Public Health.

The “micromobility” phenomenon, or the uptick in the use of motorized two-wheeled vehicles, is so recent that researchers lack national data on its risks to pedestrians. In New York City, for instance, pedestrians remain far more likely to be hurt or die in encounters with cars, trucks, or vans. Last year, the city recorded 112 pedestrian deaths, of which 105 involved motor vehicles.

But “my clinical colleagues are sounding the alarm,” DiMaggio said. “Emergency departments and trauma teams are saying we need to pay more attention” to e-bike injuries.

Inebriated Pedestrians

One often overlooked factor in pedestrian deaths: alcohol. Among adult pedestrians killed in nighttime crashes, about a third had blood alcohol levels indicating intoxication; so did about 20% of those killed during the day. Public health officials have cautioned for years that older adults are drinking more, and more often.

“It’s almost a blind spot,” Rundle said. “We talk about drunk drivers a lot” but less about inebriated pedestrians.

Half of fatal pedestrian crashes involve alcohol use.

Nevertheless, crashes that cause injury and death are preventable, said Laura Sandt, co-director of the Highway Safety Research Center at the University of North Carolina. Federal and local government policies have evolved since the era when pedestrian fatalities “seemed just part of the business of driving,” she said.

More than 200 municipalities have adopted the Vision Zero approach, for instance, a public health focus on programs and environments that increase traffic safety for all ages. Changes that can save lives involve improved

  • street design (pedestrian islands, crosswalks, lighting, and bumped-out curbs making street-crossers more visible),
  • safer signal timing (giving pedestrians a head start over turning cars),
  • and lowered speed limits.

A recent study of where older pedestrians die in collisions found that the risk was substantially greater in places with a high density of walkable senior destinations, like hospitals and health facilities, pharmacies, and senior and community centers. That suggests the possibility of traffic strategies targeting such neighborhoods, analogous to child safety efforts focused on schools and their surroundings.

Traffic safety “shouldn’t rely on a pedestrian’s noticing a car coming and jumping out of the way,” said Mooney, one of the authors of the study. “Our job is to make the system safer for all ages and capacities.”

Melville, who was unable to leap out of danger, is “out and about now,” she said. “I’m not where I was, and I don’t know if I ever will be, but I can function. I’m leading a normal life.”

She still mourns her hikes in Reinhardt Redwood Regional Park and the Point Reyes National Seashore preserve, she said, but “I’m going to get there.”

The New Old Age is produced through a partnership with The New York Times.

KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF—an independent source of health policy research, polling, and journalism. Learn more about KFF.

This article first appeared on KFF Health News and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

8 Walking Safety Tips from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration

  • Follow the rules of the road and obey signs and signals.
  • Walk on sidewalks whenever they are available. If there is no sidewalk, walk facing traffic and as far from traffic as possible.
  • Do not cross mid-block. Cross streets at crosswalks or intersections.
  • If a crosswalk or intersection is not available, locate a well-lit area where you have the best view of traffic. Wait for a gap in traffic that allows enough time to cross safely; continue watching for traffic as you cross.
  • Watch for cars entering or exiting driveways or backing up in parking lots.
  • Embrace walking as a healthy form of transportation.
  • When crossing the street, stay alert: check for signs, signals, and the actions of drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians around you.
  • Do not rely on others to keep you safe; make eye contact with drivers when possible and wait for a clear, complete stop before crossing.
The risk of dying if hit by a vehicle moving at 58 mph is 90%.

Images

Graphics are from the NHTSA and were not included in the original article. The cover photo is from Pexels.com by Kai Pro.

Ask: What does this mean for me?

My husband had a serious car accident three years ago. The car was totalled, but he sustained no injuries. He was fortunate. Likely, you have either been involved in some type of vehicle collision, or know someone who has.

How important is the information in this article to you? What new insights did you gain or were reminded of?

Are you more likely to be the driver or the pedestrian in a vehicle-pedestrian crash?

What will you do with what you learned from this article? I would appreciate you leaving your experience and insight in the comments. It might help someone else.

My husband’s wrecked car. If I had been in the passenger seat, the airbag would have deployed into my face.

Exploring the HEART of Health

I appreciate your time reading this post and invite you to follow this blog and me on social media.

I share information and inspiration to help you transform challenges into opportunities for learning and growth.

Add your name to the subscribe box to be notified of new posts by email. Click the link to read the post and browse other content. It’s that simple. No spam.

I enjoy seeing who is new to Watercress Words. When you subscribe, I will visit your blog or website. Thanks and see you next time.

Dr. Aletha

Remembering Flight 93, 9/11/2001

I was touched by this personal remembrance about 9/11/2001. We don’t hear as much about what happened in a secluded field in rural Pennsylvania, but we should. This article tells that story.

My sincere thanks to Tim Lambert, Oklahoma Voice, and States Newroom for permission to publish this poignant remembrance of the heroes of Flight 93.

Remembering Flight 93 through the lens of healing

by Tim Lambert, Oklahoma Voice
September 10, 2026

The parking lot was dotted with just a handful of cars on this comfortable August morning. It was the first week of school for many families, so visitors were a bit more sparse than usual.

After a two-hour drive from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, to this secluded spot in Somerset County, it was nice to stretch my legs and feel the sun on my face. I had nearly forgotten how windy it can be out here. 

My brain sort of went on autopilot as my body started to slowly move forward, past the education center and a small group of tourists milling around, and onto a black granite walkway. Every few steps, I’d glance at an engraving in the pathway — marking the time and location of a terrible event that preceded what I’d see when the walkway simply ends.

Passing through two towering concrete walls, my eyes were focused on the overlook ahead. The expanse of fields of tall grasses, trees and flowers disappeared from view. I reached the end and stood in front of a waist-high glass window, marked with the phrase: “A common field one day. A field of honor forever.”

I was back at the Flight 93 National Memorial.

Instinctively, I glanced up at the blue sky. “It would have passed right over my head,” I thought as I looked out at the green field. A boulder marked the approximate area where United Flight 93 met the earth at more than 560 mph on Sept. 11, 2001. Forty innocent passengers and crew as well as four al-Qaida terrorists lost their lives there.

It was peaceful now. The sound of birds, crickets and cicadas merged as the wind picked up again. The grass had recently been mowed, and 60-foot-tall hemlock trees still stood around the area that’s come to be known as the “bowl.”

Has it really been 25 years since that horrible day?

The rebellion

Perhaps the story of Flight 93 has faded over the last quarter century, so it might be a good time to pause for a refresher.

The cross-country flight was headed from Newark, New Jersey, to San Francisco when it was delayed on the runway for about 25 crucial minutes. Takeoff occurred about four minutes before the first jetliner struck the World Trade Center in New York. 

Once in the sky, the four al-Qaida terrorists took control of the plane somewhere over northeast Ohio. Because of the late takeoff, passengers and crew members were able to gather invaluable information through 37 phone calls to loved ones about the attacks in New York and at the Pentagon outside of Washington, D.C., and what was likely their fate too. 

So, they came together to try to retake the hijacked jetliner and protect innocent people on the ground. Investigators believe the intended target was the U.S. Capitol, but when faced with the uprising, the terrorists chose to bring the plane down amid the struggle for control of the cockpit. 

After strikes on the symbols of America’s financial and military strength, al-Qaida designed the fourth blow to destroy the very seat of democracy. 

Thanks to the actions of 40 people who found courage amid the most terrifying experience of their lives, the terrorists failed in the final act of their attack. 

A caretaker

This was my first visit to the memorial in Stonycreek Township since the remembrance event to mark the 20th anniversary of the attacks in 2021. I’m not sure why I haven’t been back. Life has a way of just churning along, I guess. 

I was a visitor now, experiencing this out-of-the way field like any other person who found themselves drawn to it. I couldn’t help leaning over to someone who was asking their friend or partner a question and answering it for them.

“Yes. They did recover the black box.”

Force of habit. 

You see, from 2001 to 2009, I was one of a handful of caretakers of this area that became known around the world on that horrible Tuesday morning. Some of the land that was considered an essential part of the crash site had been in my family for more than seven decades. It’s not talked about much, but there were at least five other private property owners in the same situation. 

Back in the 1930s, my grandfather purchased about 200 acres just outside Shanksville and near Lambertsville. It eventually was whittled down to 163 acres after he and my father built several cabins and sold off pieces of land here and there. (My grandfather also worked on building the Pentagon during World War II, but that’s another story.) My father handed it off to me in the 1990s.

I never thought much about it (except when the property tax bill came), until that day in September. 

‘Those trees are ours’

Like most journalists, Sept. 11 was a blur of trying to make sense of the senseless and calmly conveying what we knew to listeners, readers and viewers (while barely holding it together). 

When I heard about a plane going down near Shanksville late in the morning, I wondered if my dad would know where the crash site was and if he could put me in touch with one of his old friends for an interview. Around 4:30 p.m., I stopped what I was doing in the radio station newsroom and glanced at the TV atop a filing cabinet. The network reporter was standing at the corner of the Lambertsville and Shanksville roads. 

Instantly, I remembered my family’s piece of land and knew it was close to where that reporter was. “Nah. There’s no way,” I thought. All reports at the time said the site was at a reclaimed strip mine. 

After covering a prayer vigil outside Harrisburg, traffic was nonexistent on my drive back to the  station. I glanced at a sign that sent a chill down my spine: “I-81 to NYC is closed. Emergency personnel only.”

It wasn’t until I returned to my Gettysburg apartment early in the morning on Sept. 12 that my worst fear came to life. On my answering machine was a message from my dad, who had been following the story all day. He saw the video of the smoking crater and burned out trees just yards from the impact site. 

“Those trees are ours.”

Behind the locked gates 

Since I was the only one of the affected landowners who lived outside Somerset County, it took several weeks before Somerset County Coroner Wallace Miller tracked me down to confirm my dad’s belief and offered me a tour of the site. 

Faced with the invitation to visit a place that had been sealed off from the public since the attacks, I knew I had to approach it respectfully and carefully. So, I told Miller I was a journalist and would like to record our conversation and take photos. 

His response? “What are you going to do? Report on yourself?”

“Trust me,” I thought, “I have no idea how this will work.”

To be honest, I wasn’t confident I could even find the property. I hadn’t visited since I was about 8 years old. My dad met me at the Pennsylvania Turnpike exit and I followed him there — on highways, backroads, past Shanksville and finally onto a dirt road. 

We drove to a security gate and a sheriff’s deputy checked for our names and waved us through to where Miller was working on cleanup with volunteers. As we got out of our cars, the wind picked up and immediately, we knew this experience was going to be like no other.

The air smelled like jet fuel. 

Miller explained how the investigation determined the plane was violently wagging its wings before flipping upside down. It then plunged straight into the reclaimed strip mine, with the first-class section and cockpit areas breaking off and exploding into the grove of hemlock trees. The rest of the plane telescoped itself into the ground. It disintegrated into thousands upon thousands of pieces. 

When I asked what he found from the plane, the coroner bent down and picked up a piece of jagged metal the size of a dime and said simply, “A lot of these.”

It was like a camera shutter in my head when I blinked. I mean, I literally heard a “click.” When I opened my eyes, the ground around us was littered with debris. 

Flight 93 was all around us. 

‘Tell their story’

Having lived in Gettysburg for about seven years and with deep interest in history, I realized right away the profound responsibility I now faced. This was the final resting place of 40 passengers and crew members who provided a devastated nation with a sense of pride and resolve for their actions over the skies of Somerset County. 

My name may have been on the deed, but the land itself didn’t belong to me anymore. It belonged to the grieving families and would need to be protected and preserved.

I would soon learn that firsthand.

In December 2001, I was bracing myself for a meeting in Shanksville over whether the Flight 93 crash site would become a national memorial.

I was standing in the parking lot of Ida’s Country Store, talking to the mother or mother-in-law — I can’t remember — of flight attendant Sandy Bradshaw. In a phone call from the hijacked plane, Bradshaw had told her husband she was boiling water to throw on the terrorists.

As I sipped my coffee and shook off the chill, the woman looked me in the eye and asked, “So … you’re a journalist?” When I nodded my head, she simply said, “Tell their story.”

For two decades, those words were my guiding light. I found myself in a unique situation — journalist, landowner, caretaker — when it came to the site itself. Remember, the crash site had been sealed off from the public since 9/11.

It was a responsibility I took seriously. Some of my friends would describe it as obsessively.

I did my best not to take advantage of it. I just wanted to write about the journey the people left behind found themselves on after the crash. I tried to help people understand what that land was like in the months, years and now decades, after Flight 93 met the earth.

What I really had no way of knowing was that the backbone of my work would be about healing. 

A bond forged in grief grows into friendship

A woman approached me during a break in a meeting of the families that Miller had organized in New Jersey in February 2002, and asked if I was a landowner.

When I told her I was, her next words nearly broke me. “I’m sorry you are involved in all of this and that you lost so many beautiful trees.”

It was Debby Borza, whose 20-year-old daughter, Deora Bodley, was the youngest passenger on Flight 93. And I couldn’t comprehend how, amid her grief, she could say something so kind … so thoughtful … to this stranger. 

Little did I know how much of a force of positive nature Debby was and how much she would impact my life over the next two decades. 

We would meet at the site — sometimes by chance, sometimes for an interview — in the place that served as her daughter’s final resting place. There was no other possible setting to talk about the things we shared. 

Ahead of the five-year anniversary, Wally Miller called me one day in July and asked if I was going to be in Shanksville that weekend. I couldn’t figure out why he’d asked. My birthday was a few days away and I had just started dating someone (now my wife, Amy). There wasn’t a good reason to spend as much time at the site as I had in those first couple of years. 

After sensing my reluctance, Wally admitted that Debby wanted to throw a surprise birthday party for me at the Pine Grill Restaurant. 

How do you say no to that?

So, Amy and I made the familiar drive along the turnpike and walked into a raucous dinner with several family members who were in town for a Flight 93 Advisory Commission meeting. This was the first time she would meet my “other” family.

What was noticeable was how much they enjoyed being around each other. Theirs was a bond that had been forged in tragedy and grief, but that had grown into friendship and respect. 

They sang “happy birthday” to me, which we captured on audiotape. I never shared it publicly. 

That little piece of kindness I kept for myself.

Healing

Walking down a winding path to a restricted area with locked gates, Ken Nacke reflected on his journey to cope with the loss of his brother Louis “Joey” Nacke on Flight 93.

As we entered, the first thing that hit him, he said, was the loss. Wishing he wasn’t there. Wishing he didn’t have to be here. 

Then, he said hello to Joey.

It was 2011. I joined Ken as an outsider. No longer a caretaker, it was the first time I’d walked these familiar grounds since I sold the property — the 6 acres considered an essential part of the crash site to the National Park Service and the rest to the nonprofit group the Families of Flight 93. 

A Baltimore County, Maryland, police officer at the time, Kenny and I had crossed paths numerous times over the years. He and his sister were in the audience when the federal government — in an unprecedented move — played the black box recording of the final moments of Flight 93.

The loss of his brother — a weightlifter with a Superman tattoo — hit him hard, and he struggled for several years to come to terms with its suddenness and senselessness. He had vivid dreams of being on the plane during the charge to try to regain control of the cockpit. 

But, he found a way to turn the corner, thanks to a couple of bear cubs.

He was sitting on a bench near the tree his family planted in Joey’s memory, when the pair came out of the woods to explore. Suddenly, they began to play — wrestling and roughhousing — like only siblings can. 

Just like he used to do with Joey. 

Could I? Would I?

I’ve only flown once on Sept. 11. It was in 2018, and I was headed to a journalism conference in Austin, Texas. 

Standing in the line for security, plenty of thoughts and reflections ran through my mind.

Being in the airport is boring and mundane.

You wait around. 

A lot.

On Sept. 11, 2001, the passengers and crew of those four flights had no idea what awaited them.

They probably flipped through books or listened to CDs on a Walkman. 

All the while waiting to board.

Waiting.

Just like I was.

Ever since that horrible day, I glance around the plane anytime I fly … taking stock of who’s onboard. 

Then, my mind goes to Flight 93.

If something goes wrong, will anyone step up? 

Could I?

Twenty-five years later

Not much at the memorial had changed since 2021. But, I felt like it’d changed for me. I experienced it like everyone else, outside of catching up with one or two folks from the National Park Service who’ve been at the site since it opened 15 years ago.

I toured the visitor center and looked at the books for sale in the gift shop. I drove to the walking pathway that takes you as close as a visitor can get to the “sacred ground.” 

Only the family members can enter the field and the woods. I walked along the Wall of Names, stopping to say hello to those whose families I had grown close to over the years. I peered through the giant wooden gate (made of hemlock) at the boulder — a gate that only opens every Sept. 11 to allow loved ones to walk to the site. 

It’s a different experience now. 

I’m not standing in the bowl or walking near the cabins my grandfather and father built as my eyes stayed glued to  the ground — scanning left to right and right to left — looking for anything that doesn’t belong in this secluded spot. 

A piece of wire.

A jagged sliver of metal.

Searching for reminders that Flight 93’s story is still being told. 

Never forget

The lessons of how 40 passengers and crew stood up and became heroes must never be lost to time or relegated to footnote status in this nation’s history books. And in this time of polarization and partisanship, those lessons are more important than ever. 

The Flight 93 National Memorial will always be more than “a field in Pennsylvania.”

This amazing group of strangers, when faced with an unthinkable situation and unimaginable fear, got together and took a vote on whether to fight back.

Let that sink in.

They trusted the democratic process.

They trusted each other.

May the nation always remember their selflessness and sacrifice.

May it always remember how they came together — from different backgrounds, different ages, different incomes, different countries — to decide together to fight back and stop evil in its tracks.

May their lesson always remind us it’s better working together than bickering among ourselves.

May that lesson never be forgotten.

On the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks in 2021, Lambert was working at WITF and teamed up with NPR’s Scott Detrow to produce an hour-long documentary telling the story of Flight 93 and how some family members found ways to cope with their grief — Sacred Ground.

This story was originally produced by Pennsylvania Capital-Star, which is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network which includes Oklahoma Voice, and is supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity.

Oklahoma Voice is part of States Newsroom, a nonprofit news network supported by grants and a coalition of donors as a 501c(3) public charity. Oklahoma Voice maintains editorial independence. Contact Editor Janelle Stecklein for questions: info@oklahomavoice.com.

Cover Image

This image is not Flight 93. It is a stock photo by Miguel Cuenca on Pexels.com

Exploring the HEART of Health

I appreciate your time reading this post and invite you to follow this blog and me on social media.

I share information and inspiration to help you transform challenges into opportunities for learning and growth.

Add your name to the subscribe box to be notified of new posts by email. Click the link to read the post and browse other content. It’s that simple. No spam.

I enjoy seeing who is new to Watercress Words. When you subscribe, I will visit your blog or website. Thanks and see you next time.

Dr. Aletha