Bad after Taste

I happened to drive this afternoon by a scene of a bike accident after it happened. The police was still there, a yellow tape blocking traffic, the broken bike, and a telling blood stain on the road, round, probably where they cyclist head lay just moments before I got there.
People stood around, watching, talking, but the injured person was no longer there.
Like a paparazzi, I snapped a picture. I don't know why.
Maybe because I knew it could be me, or any member of my family, next.