Open Letters Upon Close Calls
I was the cyclist on Embarcadero, in the bike lane, when you almost hit me. I thought you were drunk- but you were on a cell phone.
I wanted to catch up with you at a stop sign- and tell you to get off your effen phone before you kill someone, but you managed to dash off waving your big fat Lexus butt around the car lane. Who knows, maybe it’s not the cell phone- you just don’t know how to steer. Maybe you had two martinis at lunch. Maybe you just hate people exercising on a beautiful winter day, bitter about your own entrapment in a career you detest, setting out on a two hour commute to your home in Alviso. I don’t know, I just know that seeing a stretch of white paint on a 1-ton car an inch from your handlebars is terrifying.
Someone That Now Understands Why Cyclists Have Attitude
Next: Almost killed by train
Last night in Emeryville, I got a green light to turn left on 65th street crossing the tracks. In the middle of the very small intersection, the railroad lights flashed and the bar came down within 15 seconds, start to finish. 20 seconds later, an Amtrak going the speed of light flew by. I’ve never been on a train, especially an American train, going that fast. Please re-think the 65th street intersection. Me, the white stationwagon guy behind me who refused to backup, and all commuters at 5:10PM will be very grateful in the future, as we will have our lives intact. By the way, the railroad crossing arm does not bonk your car and scratch the paint, it lightly bounces off. I never knew that.
An Adventurous, Courageous Carpooler