Cause and effect, chain of events, all of this chaos makes perfect sense
Taking the usual route to work this morning proved impossible, due to an intersection blocked by the police, for what looked like a street sweeper? I dunno, I'm sure it was something more exciting, but I swear, it looked like a street sweeper.
I was lucky enough to be stuck in traffic right next to an alley, which I chose to utilize, upon realizing that I might otherwise be stuck in my spot long enough to make me late to work, which likely would've given me hives. I was in the right lane of a one way street, when I decided to turn left into the alley, a feat made possible by the white van next to me, who had stopped in the middle of the left lane, and seemed to be unclear on his next course of action. I turn my blinker on, like a good little driver, and move forward enough to be able to turn without hitting him, when he seems to begin contemplating the same move, and pulls up a little more himself, we repeat this again, with my frustration mounting, and space disappearing, so I nudge my horn just enough to get his attention, and signal to him, using exaggerated hand gestures that probably make him think I'm on some sort of hallucinagen, that I plan to turn, and he should either shit or get off the pot.
He waves me on, and then follows me, as I wind through first this alley, and then another, and then a turn, and another turn, and another turn, because downtown Eugene is made up of almost exclusively one-way streets. We eventually arrive at the street we were both heading to, and he seems discontented by my speed, which is roughly 5mph higher than the designated limit in this area, and moves to the left lane speeing up, as if to pass. He is thwarted by a stoplight, and we pull up next to each other at the last light before we reach the bridge that I take every morning.
I am careful, as I cross the bridge, to drive at a speed consistant with the flow of traffic, (today this is roughly 8mph above the posted limit) because I know that there is often a member of our police force hanging out just as you get to the downhill slide, waiting to catch some poor unsuspecting motorist who is in too much of a hurry to be bothered by trivialities such as speed limits, and I figured, that today would be a particularly good day in which to 'catch' people at it, due to the detour/delay at a prime intersection right before the bridge. Even having had this thought, I still get that little jump in my chest when I see him on his motorcycle, I guiltily, and almost involentarily tap on the breaks, knowing as I do so that by this point he's going to pull me over if he wants to. I am just a little gleeful that the white van is speeding by ahead of me, going faster than the folks in my line, because I see his, faster presense as an out, if the officer is going to make a stop out of this batch of cars, it's going to be the white van.
My heart still beats a little faster as I notice the motorcycle pull out behind me, and I silently curse myself for each and every time I've felt the need to mention that I've never been pulled over. "You asked for it" my bitchy little inner voice reminds me, to which I must conceded, "pride cometh before the fall, or whatever" it continues before stopping to watch the cop go speeding by. My heart begins to slow as I continue watching the scene ahead of me, and just as I make my turn, the white van is pulled over.
I almost feel responsible, as though I engineered it all somehow. As though, by signaling to him that I was going to turn, by being in front of him, at a slower pace than he wanted to go for all those alleys and streets, by daring to think of the possible consequenses of speeding, by silently hoping that it would be him, and not I, that those lights would flash behind, I had inadvertantly led him to this fate.
I was lucky enough to be stuck in traffic right next to an alley, which I chose to utilize, upon realizing that I might otherwise be stuck in my spot long enough to make me late to work, which likely would've given me hives. I was in the right lane of a one way street, when I decided to turn left into the alley, a feat made possible by the white van next to me, who had stopped in the middle of the left lane, and seemed to be unclear on his next course of action. I turn my blinker on, like a good little driver, and move forward enough to be able to turn without hitting him, when he seems to begin contemplating the same move, and pulls up a little more himself, we repeat this again, with my frustration mounting, and space disappearing, so I nudge my horn just enough to get his attention, and signal to him, using exaggerated hand gestures that probably make him think I'm on some sort of hallucinagen, that I plan to turn, and he should either shit or get off the pot.
He waves me on, and then follows me, as I wind through first this alley, and then another, and then a turn, and another turn, and another turn, because downtown Eugene is made up of almost exclusively one-way streets. We eventually arrive at the street we were both heading to, and he seems discontented by my speed, which is roughly 5mph higher than the designated limit in this area, and moves to the left lane speeing up, as if to pass. He is thwarted by a stoplight, and we pull up next to each other at the last light before we reach the bridge that I take every morning.
I am careful, as I cross the bridge, to drive at a speed consistant with the flow of traffic, (today this is roughly 8mph above the posted limit) because I know that there is often a member of our police force hanging out just as you get to the downhill slide, waiting to catch some poor unsuspecting motorist who is in too much of a hurry to be bothered by trivialities such as speed limits, and I figured, that today would be a particularly good day in which to 'catch' people at it, due to the detour/delay at a prime intersection right before the bridge. Even having had this thought, I still get that little jump in my chest when I see him on his motorcycle, I guiltily, and almost involentarily tap on the breaks, knowing as I do so that by this point he's going to pull me over if he wants to. I am just a little gleeful that the white van is speeding by ahead of me, going faster than the folks in my line, because I see his, faster presense as an out, if the officer is going to make a stop out of this batch of cars, it's going to be the white van.
My heart still beats a little faster as I notice the motorcycle pull out behind me, and I silently curse myself for each and every time I've felt the need to mention that I've never been pulled over. "You asked for it" my bitchy little inner voice reminds me, to which I must conceded, "pride cometh before the fall, or whatever" it continues before stopping to watch the cop go speeding by. My heart begins to slow as I continue watching the scene ahead of me, and just as I make my turn, the white van is pulled over.
I almost feel responsible, as though I engineered it all somehow. As though, by signaling to him that I was going to turn, by being in front of him, at a slower pace than he wanted to go for all those alleys and streets, by daring to think of the possible consequenses of speeding, by silently hoping that it would be him, and not I, that those lights would flash behind, I had inadvertantly led him to this fate.