Don't run the red

Today a car almost hit me on my way to work.

It was entirely the driver's fault legally--his light was very red, and he decided to run it just as I pulled into the intersection.

But here is what sucks: I was riding my mountain bike, and if he had hit me...

Whether the rock hits the glass pitcher, or the pitcher hits the rock...

So I'm pissed off at people who run red lights today. Before this morning, I used to sit at intersections, shaking my head as cars trickled through. (In Spokane, Washington, where I studied for my bachelor's degree, there must be ten cars per minute running red lights all over the very small city.)

After this morning, besides the adrenaline coursing through my body, I am jittery with anger. What if this asshole had hit me?

He would be legally responsible.

I could easily be folded up, or cut in pieces, or just plain-old dead.

And today, there's no pithy moral, painted in clear and careful language. Just stop running red lights.

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Jeremy published on April 29, 1998 12:00 AM.

Bones was the previous entry in this blog.

Naked, in bed, with the salt of the day crystallizing on my face is the next entry in this blog.

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