Thursday, October 10, 2019
I use a power wheelchair for mobility and do not drive. Public transit and my wheelchair are my primary modes of transportation. We have reasonably convenient and effective public bus service here in Colorado Springs. I do need to plan for an hour or more travel time depending on which part of town I go to, but if there is not a lot of snow on the ground, I can get many places by bus (on weekdays, fewer places evening and weekends).
Yesterday I attended one of the business-women’s networking groups I belong to. I left my house at 9:00 a.m., took three different buses, rolled approximately one-half mile, and arrived at the location at 10:30 a.m. A person driving can make the trip in a little less than 30 minutes, such has been my life for 20+ years. It takes approximately two to three times longer for me to accomplish basic tasks, mostly because I am unable to do them for myself and need assistance.
Because I am in the streets so much, I cross quite a few busy intersections. Sometimes crossing the street is a roll in the park and sometimes I feel I am taking a life-threatening journey. On my way to the event I crossed an intersection that has an island between the going-straight lanes and the right-turn lane. When I cross these intersections, I wait on the island until there are not any cars coming and then I finish crossing.
On my way to the event, two cars passed me while I was waiting and then the third car driver stopped to let me cross ahead of him. It was completely not necessary; I am happy to wait my turn and he had the right of way since there is not a cross light for this part of the crosswalk. I waved my thanks, crossed ahead of him, and rolled on to my event.
I had an interesting time at my event, however that is a story for another day. As I rolled back to the bus stop, I once again needed to cross that single lane to get to the primary intersection. This time there were not any cars coming when I looked so I started crossing the street. As I got half-way across the street, I hear squealing tires and a car blares its horn at me.
I continued crossing the lane at the same speed (which is very fast) because I was not in any real danger of being hit. I was shocked by the driver’s rudeness. It takes me a few seconds to cross a single lane of traffic. The car was not within 40 feet (my approximate unobstructed visibility) of me when I started crossing. The car’s tires were squealing as the driver took the gradual curve so he or she was quite obviously speeding; and they had the nerve to blare their horn at me for a few more seconds AFTER they passed me like I was the one doing wrong.
I could have let this annoyance ruin the rest of my day. Instead I decided the driver may not have realized they were going as fast as they were until they heard their tires squeal and honked their horn so I would not stop in the street. The driver might have been so upset by the idea of hitting a defenseless person in a wheelchair they held down the horn for longer than they should have.
My piece of advice to you is to remember there are always at least two sides to every story. Even if the driver was wrong and a jerk, how did it really affect me? I was never in a position that they could have hit me (unless the driver purposely ran off the road to do it) so what really happened? At worst, an inconsiderate person blew their horn at me. I put on my big-girl panties today; I can let it go.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.
I use a power wheelchair for mobility and do not drive. Public transit and my wheelchair are my primary modes of transportation. We have reasonably convenient and effective public bus service here in Colorado Springs. I do need to plan for an hour or more travel time depending on which part of town I go to, but if there is not a lot of snow on the ground, I can get many places by bus (on weekdays, fewer places evening and weekends).
Yesterday I attended one of the business-women’s networking groups I belong to. I left my house at 9:00 a.m., took three different buses, rolled approximately one-half mile, and arrived at the location at 10:30 a.m. A person driving can make the trip in a little less than 30 minutes, such has been my life for 20+ years. It takes approximately two to three times longer for me to accomplish basic tasks, mostly because I am unable to do them for myself and need assistance.
Because I am in the streets so much, I cross quite a few busy intersections. Sometimes crossing the street is a roll in the park and sometimes I feel I am taking a life-threatening journey. On my way to the event I crossed an intersection that has an island between the going-straight lanes and the right-turn lane. When I cross these intersections, I wait on the island until there are not any cars coming and then I finish crossing.
On my way to the event, two cars passed me while I was waiting and then the third car driver stopped to let me cross ahead of him. It was completely not necessary; I am happy to wait my turn and he had the right of way since there is not a cross light for this part of the crosswalk. I waved my thanks, crossed ahead of him, and rolled on to my event.
I had an interesting time at my event, however that is a story for another day. As I rolled back to the bus stop, I once again needed to cross that single lane to get to the primary intersection. This time there were not any cars coming when I looked so I started crossing the street. As I got half-way across the street, I hear squealing tires and a car blares its horn at me.
I continued crossing the lane at the same speed (which is very fast) because I was not in any real danger of being hit. I was shocked by the driver’s rudeness. It takes me a few seconds to cross a single lane of traffic. The car was not within 40 feet (my approximate unobstructed visibility) of me when I started crossing. The car’s tires were squealing as the driver took the gradual curve so he or she was quite obviously speeding; and they had the nerve to blare their horn at me for a few more seconds AFTER they passed me like I was the one doing wrong.
I could have let this annoyance ruin the rest of my day. Instead I decided the driver may not have realized they were going as fast as they were until they heard their tires squeal and honked their horn so I would not stop in the street. The driver might have been so upset by the idea of hitting a defenseless person in a wheelchair they held down the horn for longer than they should have.
My piece of advice to you is to remember there are always at least two sides to every story. Even if the driver was wrong and a jerk, how did it really affect me? I was never in a position that they could have hit me (unless the driver purposely ran off the road to do it) so what really happened? At worst, an inconsiderate person blew their horn at me. I put on my big-girl panties today; I can let it go.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.