OK. So, because two friends lately got slapped with $500 tickets for running red lights (camera-enforced, mebs a little questionable; I have been more careful when approaching lights. To be specific, I watch the crosswalk countdown and take my foot off Ruby’s gas as it gets close to 0.
Also generally I look around to see if anyone else is doing the same thing.
So today I was approaching a light on Washington, and lo, the crosswalk countdown is at 1, and lo, I take my foot off the gas, and lo, the light turns yellow.
“I rule,” think I, and I begin to brake, and FOR WOTEVER REASON check my mirror to see if the person behind me has seen what I’m doing.
AND LO HE HAS NOT. The car behind me is getting bigger real fast. I see the tail end plank upward, see a cloud of blue smoke, and ah, yes, beneath 98.7 FM I hear the squee of tires.
So I just… keep… Ruby… rolling into that crosswalk… give a brother five more feet to stop.
The other driver swerves into the next lane and stops completely. No collision. Everybody sort of looks at each other and breathes.
And then I back up a few feet (cos I’m totally all up in the crosswalk) and I would call that particular kind of backing VICTORY BACKING.
I don’t wish to be overdramatical. If I hadn’t pulled up, nobody would have died. BUT if I hadn’t been paying attention there’s no diggity no doubt I would still be at that intersection now waiting for the po-pos to come take a report.
Also, Ruby is an ’88 Honda Civic. There’s only so much collision an ’88 Honda Civic can take before one’s insurance company says that’s not a car no more.
Which reminds me — driving an ’88 Honda Civic has made me a better driver. Sure, she’s a stick with no power steering, and it’s hard to parallel park on a hill. Sure, Ruby doesn’t ding when you leave your lights on. But I LOVE that car like a fat kid loves cake.
Who’s a sexy car? YOU’RE A SEXY CAR!
