3:15 p.m. Monday. The scanner toned, “Car versus pedestrian, North Broad Street, in front of Garf’s Deli. Norwich stations.”

I ran through the pouring rain a block down from my office toward a woman’s screams. Before I even got around the corner, I could see the bright strobing of red and blue emergency lights flickering down the street, across the wet pavement and side buildings.

Even in the downpour, people stepped outside and stared at the half-dozen police, fire and EMS personnel who frantically clustered around a woman lying in the middle of the road. Directly 30 feet in front of her, I could see an old man sitting in his car; the whole windshield was smashed in a spider web of broke glass.

He nervously stared into his rearview mirror while anxiously massaging the back of his hands as if he was trying to get ink off the skin.

I felt a strange combination of horror and relief. At least she didn’t go under the vehicle.