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Adventure!
Jan. 2nd, 2010 06:45 pmVoodoo and me? We always have to start off the new year with Adventure.
First off, let me say that neither I, nor Voodoo, are hurt. Scared as hell, and now leery of a certain intersection, but not hurt.
I drove back to SLO, today. I left the house much later than I'd anticipated, perhaps by an hour, though likely more. Maybe that affected my judgment? I don't know.
Voodoo needed gas. Instead of getting it at the corner (it's very expensive), I decided to go down a few blocks, across Garfield, and save a dime.
Garfield is a busy, busy street. It's got two freeway onramps, multiple other offramps, underpasses, driveways, turn lanes... the works. Where I crossed, at Hellman, Garfield has one other feature: an incline that makes the intersection blind for people approaching from the North. General logic would tell you to slow down if you can't see the intersection. Who knows what could be there, right? Well, people in Alhambra do not use logic. If they did, Voodoo wouldn't have a metric ton of Bondo in her fender.
Anyway -- I approached Garfield from Hellman. My view was unobstructed, save for the two or three cars lined up in the lefthand turn lane. The light was red, so they weren't moving. As I got within fifty feet, the light turned green. I'd been coasting in neutral, ready to stop, but as the light flicked over, I put Voodoo back into third and went on through.
Ten feet into the intersection, someone blared their horn. I turned my head, trying to figure out where the sound came from, and all I could see was grille and headlights on my left. Then there was a loud, horrendous screech. Tires. His, not mine. I didn't brake. Thank God, or Voodoo would have had another ton of Bondo added to her tail. I remember honking back, more offended than shocked, but then I think I blacked out for a second. I don't actively remember getting through the intersection. The next thing I do remember is pulling over to the side of the road, half a block down the street, and checking Voodoo for damage. Shock got to me, then. My knees shook so bad, I couldn't stand. I kneeled there, in the street, running my hands over the car door, the fender, the tail, convincing myself that nothing was dented.
I don't think I would have been so worked up had I actually been hit. It was just the shock of ALMOST getting hit. The thought of how close it was. I remember talking to another Ghia owner about accidents, once. He'd been T-boned in his Ghia when he was younger. It took him years to learn to talk again. I sat in the car and mulled over that. But something was still bugging me. Then it clicked -- the other person had run a red, almost hit me, and probably some other folks, and hadn't even stopped. Hell, he'd honked at ME for being in HIS way! Fucker!
I went on the gas station, but spent the ten-or-so minutes it took to get gas and fix Voodoo's horn (it fell off after I'd honked at the other car) mentally using every curse word I know. I hate Alhambra. No one cares about anyone else, especially when they drive. It's never "I'm sorry I was in your way," but "Get out of MY way!"
I hope that idiot gets a flat. It'll keep him off the road, and maybe save someone else some damage. Or medical bills.
First off, let me say that neither I, nor Voodoo, are hurt. Scared as hell, and now leery of a certain intersection, but not hurt.
I drove back to SLO, today. I left the house much later than I'd anticipated, perhaps by an hour, though likely more. Maybe that affected my judgment? I don't know.
Voodoo needed gas. Instead of getting it at the corner (it's very expensive), I decided to go down a few blocks, across Garfield, and save a dime.
Garfield is a busy, busy street. It's got two freeway onramps, multiple other offramps, underpasses, driveways, turn lanes... the works. Where I crossed, at Hellman, Garfield has one other feature: an incline that makes the intersection blind for people approaching from the North. General logic would tell you to slow down if you can't see the intersection. Who knows what could be there, right? Well, people in Alhambra do not use logic. If they did, Voodoo wouldn't have a metric ton of Bondo in her fender.
Anyway -- I approached Garfield from Hellman. My view was unobstructed, save for the two or three cars lined up in the lefthand turn lane. The light was red, so they weren't moving. As I got within fifty feet, the light turned green. I'd been coasting in neutral, ready to stop, but as the light flicked over, I put Voodoo back into third and went on through.
Ten feet into the intersection, someone blared their horn. I turned my head, trying to figure out where the sound came from, and all I could see was grille and headlights on my left. Then there was a loud, horrendous screech. Tires. His, not mine. I didn't brake. Thank God, or Voodoo would have had another ton of Bondo added to her tail. I remember honking back, more offended than shocked, but then I think I blacked out for a second. I don't actively remember getting through the intersection. The next thing I do remember is pulling over to the side of the road, half a block down the street, and checking Voodoo for damage. Shock got to me, then. My knees shook so bad, I couldn't stand. I kneeled there, in the street, running my hands over the car door, the fender, the tail, convincing myself that nothing was dented.
I don't think I would have been so worked up had I actually been hit. It was just the shock of ALMOST getting hit. The thought of how close it was. I remember talking to another Ghia owner about accidents, once. He'd been T-boned in his Ghia when he was younger. It took him years to learn to talk again. I sat in the car and mulled over that. But something was still bugging me. Then it clicked -- the other person had run a red, almost hit me, and probably some other folks, and hadn't even stopped. Hell, he'd honked at ME for being in HIS way! Fucker!
I went on the gas station, but spent the ten-or-so minutes it took to get gas and fix Voodoo's horn (it fell off after I'd honked at the other car) mentally using every curse word I know. I hate Alhambra. No one cares about anyone else, especially when they drive. It's never "I'm sorry I was in your way," but "Get out of MY way!"
I hope that idiot gets a flat. It'll keep him off the road, and maybe save someone else some damage. Or medical bills.
