Today on my way to my run I’m warm-up jogging on the sidewalk heading toward a four way stop… As I near the intersection, I pause, all vehicles are stopped, so I carry on along the cross walk. Suddenly this guy in an SUV on my left guns it, heading directly toward me. I freeze in the middle of the crosswalk. I would totally be that hapless deer caught in headlights, staring at the mesmerizing beam before the thud. Driver guy stops in the intersection, aggressively close, the nose of his big old car almost touching me. I don’t move. I’m still paralyzed with shock. He doesn’t move. I have no idea what he’s up to, but I don’t trust him.
I shoot him my best ‘what the hell, didn’t you see me, you nearly t-boned me jerk wad’ look and he flails his arms a bit and then he starts making a scooting motion with his hands, like I’m supposed to scoot out of his way. He continues to scoot-motion, with increasing vigour. I’m still frozen in my soon to be a dead deer position. The other cars and bikes are being bizarrely patient*. They too are frozen in that what the heck is going to happen next way.
Driver guy eventually decides to just drive over me and I, taking the higher and much safer road, slowly back up (so I’m now reversing in the crosswalk, back the way I came) so he can
get scoot by.
As he drives past I’m so close I get a good look in the window. He’s wearing a singlet and split shorts.
He’s a runner**.
Title: Jimi Hendrix – Crosstown Traffic. 1968.
*After he drove off woman in a nearby car calls him crazy and shakes her head, before smiling and waving me on. You know you are in a weird car-runner situation when another driver throws support behind the pedestrian.
**My teammates figure he’s likely an asshole on the race course, elbowing everyone out of the way. I think he’s ‘that guy’ who insists on starting on the line, runs as fast as he can for a kilometre, then flames out with some fake injury to explain why he didn’t win.