This is
understood by all San Franciscans - that, no one is ever going to
hesitate. That's why there are no accidents. It's the unexpected in
people that makes disasters and creates a demand for traffic cops.
I try to cross the street as others cross. I choose a chalk mark and,
pretending I am a native daughter, launch out. I get on fine - suddenly
a monster machine is on me. Or would be if I did not jump back. I
shouldn't have jumped back it seems. But how was I to know? In the jaws
of death you don't reason, you jump. In jumping back I hit another
machine and it stops. And that stops a street car. That stops something
else. And in a minute Market street, the famous Market street, is all
balled up because I jumped back. Drivers, red in the face, swear at me,
not because they are cross, but scared-more scared than I.
Next time I am more careful. I look to the traffic cop for attention
but, being a handsome man, he thinks I'm trying to flirt. Policemen
should be homely. So I wait until the street is entirely empty. I wait a
long time - it is empty - I run like a steer - and suddenly out of
nowhere a machine is yelling at me individually and I know no more
until, breathless and red, I reach the haven of the sidewalk.
Once I heard a horrible story of a man who lost control of his machine
and ran up on to the sidewalk.
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