Drive
One thing I’ll say for Los Angelenos, when they hear sirens, boy, they pull over. When an emergency vehicle comes racing down Sunset, sirens wailing, the traffic parts like the
These are the only vehicles that get the slightest consideration from others. The rest of the time it’s dog-eat-dog on the mean streets of LA. Just the other day I was watching a blue hybrid (don’t even get me started on all these hybrids all over the place) waiting impatiently for an opportunity to turn left on Argyle.
I contempleted holding back and letting him turn in front of me since traffic had come to a halt on Vine, a block ahead. But I have been trapped before by such a kindness because those in the lane to my right did not feel the same charitable impulse and the turning car was then trapped in front of me, ensuring that I and everybody behind me went nowhere till the intersection-dweller had completed his turn.
The only time it’s safe to yield the intersection is if both lanes are so constipated that no one is going anywhere anyway. So I proceeded through the intersection and the blue hybrid made an attempt to bully the person behind me into yielding. I heard a crunch and looked into my rear view mirror to see the hybrid, its front passenger side bumper crumpled, skidding to a halt in the intersection, steam billowing out of it.
An accident, even a minor one, always jars one out of the complacent fog of routine. But if there’s one thing we could count on, it’s that the ambulance and police would have no trouble at all getting to the scene. Just blare those sirens and voila, the lanes clear up like a happy sinus, and order is restored.
