A Morning After.

Last Night, this was a scene of flashing lights and tragedy.
In daylight, this is now just an unremarkable bit of road.
Just a few paint marks where the Police Serious Crash Unit have highlighted marks showing scuff & skid marks, and seal features.

On the back of my truck are about eight rubbish bags, containing shards of plastic and the shrapnel that is left after a crash. A fair bit of what was a nice BMW.

The Crash Unit are thorough. Every inch of the scene is photographed, and surveyed. It is treated like a crime scene, and so the road is closed.
This obviously frustrates motorists, who usually don't understand what is going on. Crucial evidence may be obliterated by passing traffic, and there is their own safety to consider.
We cop the flak here. We are the ones stopping traffic and detouring them.
It is always complicated by the fact that nobody can give a precise estimate of how long the delay will be, every accident is different.
The crash unit also has to arrive at the scene and that means a long but high speed dash from (in this case) Hamilton.
Most people are philosophical about the delay. There is always the odd arsehole.
I used to be quite polite and grit my teeth when they railed on about how important their trip is.
Not anymore.
None of us want to be there.
I give them heaps.