On Sat. night I was almost killed. Three of us were riding our bikes up Logan from a party we stopped at for a beer after the Hide-Out block party. It was beautiful bicycling weather. Warm, almost cloudless. At Western, when the light went green I was trying to get some speed up cause I wanted to sprint through the intersection. Behind me I heard Tom yell, “Whoa!!!!” and I instinctively stopped my bike almost in the middle of the intersection. I watched a brown blazer going North on Western run the red light, just missing another car coming East on Logan. The car ended up in a skidding stop in the other side of the street. He was lucky there were no cars on that side. I remember thinking, “I wonder what distracted him from the existence of stoplights?” If I had only ridden a few more feet, if I were a faster bicyclist who actually changed gears, maybe if I’d had a few more beers at the bad party we were coming from, I’d be a human pancake. It’s funny how something that was so close to changing my life forever did not leave a mark on me, not a scratch. A few feet was the same as a few miles. I bet stuff like that happens to us all the time and we just don’t notice it. And once again, faced with my own mortality, I had the thought I'm sure we all have in situations like this: We should all be nicer to me, Andrew. Tom did his part with his screaming , “Whoa!” Take a minute as you read this and really think about how you can do your part. Helping me move in Nov. would be a good start.

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