If those two vehicles reached that curve at the same moment, there wouldn't be enough road for both.
I didn't think.
I reacted.
I accelerated ahead only long enough to reach a safe visible point before the bend, then positioned my motorcycle across our lane and waved both arms.
The ambulance brakes screamed.
It stopped short of me.
The driver's door opened.
"What are you doing?!"
"MOVE!"
I pointed toward the curve.
"WAIT!"
Nobody wanted to hear it.
Why would they?
From their perspective, some gray-bearded biker had just blocked an emergency vehicle.
Then the passenger door opened.
A man jumped out.
The boy's father.
I will never forget his face.
Pure terror.
"My son is dying!"
"I know."
"THEN MOVE!"
"Give me a minute."
"We don't HAVE a minute!"
He came toward me.
I didn't blame him.
If my son had been inside that ambulance, I might've reacted exactly the same way.
Two riders I'd been traveling with arrived behind us.
They saw the road.
They understood immediately.
One started warning approaching traffic.
The other tried to calm the father.
The ambulance driver kept demanding an explanation.
I just watched the bend.
Thirty seconds.
Nothing.
Maybe I'd been wrong.
Another thirty.