A Pedestrian Story

I am a pedestrian. I never learned how to drive. The year I was supposed to take Driver’s Education in school was the year that the D.C. Public School system didn’t have money in the budget for it. Right after that, while I was away at college, my mother’s car was stolen and she never replaced it. So there was nothing for me to drive when I came home. Anyway, year after year went by, and I just never learned. Not a big deal.

But I live in Atlanta. And this city isn’t kind to pedestrians. The sidewalks in some areas are in horrible state and in a lot of residential areas, there are no sidewalks at all! Yes, in the city limits. No sidewalks. Drivers don’t care about this. They look at us like we are crazy for walking in the street! Sometimes they give you dirty looks as they walk by. Or they will drive close to the side and try to force you to hop on the curb. For those people I carry my grocery bag in the hand facing the street ready to slam it into the side of their cars! (I am not getting on the muddy curb in my suede Pumas!)

Every day when I leave work I walk the same route to the Marta train station. I use a back street in the affluent Buckhead station that runs between a hotel currently under renovation and an empty lot full of trees. (They were supposed to be torn down for condos and are all marked with a hideous “X”. The recession has stopped that development, thank God, and the trees remain.)

In the 8 or 9 years or so that I have walked this route, hundreds of cars and trucks have passed me by. Sometimes a brother will blow his horn in (I guess) appreciation. (Which is nice, but if you really want to appreciate me, give me a ride.) They pass me when I am struggling with my groceries, or my umbrella when I get caught in a storm so strong that I am soaked through by the time I get to the station. They pass me when it is freezing and the road (which is all downhill) is a sheet of ice and I am trying not to bust my ass. They pass me when it is so hot that I am taking baby steps hoping that I don’t pass out from dehydration. A couple of times people I know have driven by and waved and kept on going.

But today as I am walking along listening to my i-Pod and checking my e-mail on my cell phone, I noticed a late model Mercedes Benz slow down beside me. It stops a few feet in front of me and I see an older Caucasian woman, a scion of an old moneyed Buckhead family, no doubt, roll down her window. I take my earphones out and prepare to give her directions where ever she needs to go (what else could she want?).

And then I hear her say: “Do you need a ride? I’m going straight down to the Marta station.”
I was so taken aback that I just said, “No, thank you, this is how I get my exercise”. (Which is true.)

Maybe she is a customer of the bookstore and recognizes me from there. Maybe she was entranced by my bright yellow shirt and purse and wanted to share in the sunshine. Maybe she wanted to kidnap me and put me to work in her mansion.

I don’t know, but it was the nicest part of my day. (That’s me in the picture.)

Advertisements

10 thoughts on “A Pedestrian Story

  1. I remember those days 🙂 nola was easy to get around on the bus. So when we didn't have cars we bussed it to work and school.

    That was awfully nice of the lady esp in this day in age.

    Do you think you'll ever get your license??

  2. I have a license but I don't use it. Now that I am living in Miami it is not really necessary.

    What that lady did was really nice. When my sister was pregnant someone did this for her. She got in the car because it was a family and like 90 degree where we live.

  3. This is a fabulous entry! Do you remember the blind girl who worked in our music department? She used to talk about people intentionally splashing her walking to the store. It's funny–I overheard a preview telling this story to L&P in the office the other day.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.