Catherine Liu is a Sunnyvale mother of three and founder of Compass Point Mentorship, a non-profit organization that aids students in lower-income families in the Alviso area of San Jose. The following is her account as told to Silicon Valley Bicycle Coalition.

I was part way across Jackson Street in Sunnyvale that October evening, taking my regular walk around Murphy Park. Suddenly I thought, “something is coming toward me — I can sense it!”

It was an on-coming car, rounding the corner, catching me in the intersection. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. The driver was calling 911. Soon an ambulance crew was cutting my shoe and then pants away from my leg, where one of two broken bones was nearly emerging through the skin.

The real pain didn’t begin until I was at Stanford Medical Center. The pain was so sharp I cried. And I did not realize until even later that the real difficulty was only beginning.

“Something is coming toward me — I can sense it!”

*Catherine Liu recounting her experience getting struck by a car while walking by a neighborhood park, and then her ongoing effort to recover.*

When the person driving the car struck me, the impact shattered more than just bones. The police labeled it a "minor" crash in their report — a broken leg, they said. But what their report didn't capture were the layers of pain, fear, and upheaval that this collision brought into my life.

The Physical Burden

Let me tell you: surviving a car crash as a pedestrian, while labeled "minor" by authorities, is anything but trivial. The physical trauma alone — a leg broken in two places — has rewritten my day-to-day existence.

My world, once defined by movement and freedom, suddenly became constricted by casts, wheelchair, crutches, and physical therapy sessions. Now, two months later, I can walk again — but not far, and with difficulty and discomfort. Recovery takes time and hard work.

For weeks I’d been unable to shower, make meals, help my younger son get to school, or even use the restroom without help from my husband. I had to put my non-profit on hold, unable to meet with the parents or young people I help, or to apply for grants. At a farm in Morgan Hill where I kept ducks, chickens and beautiful peacocks, for eggs that I could share with people, and for children to interact with, the birds went unfed for long periods. The ducks flew away, and many of my chickens died.

I realized it is difficult for me — but I know that for other people, the vulnerable, there is no way they could survive the effects of being hit by a driver. I was struck next to a busy city park, where people are walking their dogs, riding bicycles, and children are playing. We need to design streets for safety to take care of everyone, not just drivers.

Back in Action

*Catherine Liu, center in wheelchair, and community at a recent ribbon-cutting for a mural by Compass Point Mentorship vounteers at Hellyer Park in San Jose.*

It's About More than Broken Bones — the Emotional Impact

It's the emotional toll that never made it into that police report. The awareness that everything can so suddenly change. The fear that grips me when I close my eyes, reliving the moment of impact. The anxiety that clouds my days, wondering if I'll ever walk without pain again. The nightmares that haunt my sleep.

Navigating life after a crash isn't just about physical and emotional healing. It's a marathon against mental hurdles. The crash replays incessantly, creating a constant state of nervousness. Decisions become laden with doubt. Trust in the safety and orderliness of the world is shattered by the one fateful moment.

The collision wasn't just a crash of metal against flesh and bone — it was a collision against my plans, my dreams, and my sense of security. The simple act of crossing the street, something so mundane and routine, became a turning point — a moment that tore apart the fabric of my life.

Moving Beyond the Crash

But amidst this turmoil, I cling to one truth: I am alive to tell this story. I am one of the fortunate ones. Many pedestrians who face the merciless force of a car don't live to share their ordeal. I survived, and I'm here to speak for those whose voices have been silenced, or whose lives have been disrupted by "minor" crashes.

Cities often focus on the fatalities, the lives lost to these collisions. But the survivors, the ones left grappling with the aftermath, are also important. We carry the scars — visible and invisible — of these encounters.

I ask you to see beyond the surface of statistics and reports. Look deeper into the lives altered by these incidents. As I navigate through the twists and turns of physical therapy and emotional healing, I want you to understand that "minor" crashes can leave a major impact on lives.

Advocate for Change

This story of how my life was impacted by this crash isn’t merely about pain. We need change. We need better infrastructure, police reports that don't minimize injuries, city councils that are invested in making streets safer for pedestrians and others, and increased awareness to prevent such incidents like mine from shattering more lives.

The impact of a crash reaches far beyond the collision itself. It leaves physical wounds, and a huge mark on the mental and financial lives of those involved. It's a reminder of the human lives at stake beyond the metal and glass.

Together, let's create roads where safety isn't just a promise but a reality.

What You Can Do

Join an SVBC local team to learn more and work for change in your community. See other ways to support or become involved in SVBC’s work toward safe streets and healthy communities.