Crusty, weather-beaten senior that I am, I feel I have acquired a certain venerable layer of cynicism as I’ve gone through my trials and tribulations here at UMass. I’ve gotten used to phone registration, Whitmore lines, the Miser’s (oh, sorry, I mean Bursar’s) Office, and living in a dorm long after most of my upperclassmen colleagues have gotten a clue and moved into a real house. But there’s one thing that, no matter how many semesters I end up spending here, still just sticks in my craw. Yes, I’m talking about you, the pedestrians of Amherst.
I have long since ceased to give a crap about your right of way. And I take exception to your continual habit of darting out in front of cars on a day-to-day basis.
But you’re saying, the pedestrians of Massachusetts have the right-of-way in crosswalks. Well, Whoop-de-freakin’ doo. I come from the eastern part of Massachusetts, where that right of way is no different under the law. But if I ever behaved there the way UMass pedestrians feel they have a right to behave around here, I would be killed outright.
It all comes down to basic mathematics. My car is a minivan built in 1989. It weighs approximately 4 tons (give or take due to rust). That’s 8000 pounds. The average compact car weighs 2 tons, or 4000 pounds. PVTA buses, last I checked, weigh 20 tons, for a whopping total of 40,000 pounds of pure Detroit steel. How much do you weigh, tough guy? 180? Do the math. When you can divide your weight into the weight of an oncoming hunk of metal and come out with a whole number, the hallowed right of way should begin to lose its meaning.
This is not to say that drivers are usually careless enough to allow such an equation to be graphically demonstrated. But no matter how careful a driver is, there’s also such a thing, for all you physics majors out there (and I know some of you have been among the pedestrians that regularly give my blood pressure a run for its money), as momentum. Each car requires at least another car’s length of stopping distance per every 20 miles per hour of speed (or so I learned back in Driver’s Ed). That means that, driving my illustrious ’89 land boat, I need a distance of about a land boat and a half to stop if I am obeying a speed limit of 35 m.p.h. So no matter how desperately I want to stop for you, at times simple physics may make it impossible. Whenever you dart out into the road in front of an oncoming car, as you are so often want to do, think about that.
If that doesn’t convince you, think then about the drivers that aren’t careful, or who are distracted. Think about the people driving down the road who have just spilled coffee into their crotch, or whose kid has just projectile-vomited onto the windshield. Think about that guy with his bass turned up too loud for him to see straight, or that girl who’s putting on lipstick as she cruises along. Yes, some of them are irresponsible, and they deserve to be punished. But the sad fact of the matter is if you are not more responsible for yourself, then it will be you who meets the ultimate punishment. No moral argument is worth grievous bodily injury. I wish more of you would give that some thought, as well.
What’s worse, though, is that this darting-out problem is especially bad when it comes to buses, which boast the most competent and careful drivers on the road. I can’t count the number of times per day I see one of you pedestrians dive out into the road, crosswalk or no crosswalk, in front of a PVTA bus loaded with passengers. Sometimes I’ve been on the bus, and all but thrown into the windshield with my fellow passengers as the bus careens to a halt to let you pass.
Okay then, you’re thinking, but buses travel more slowly than most cars, so they should be able to stop. Let’s say it’s lumbering along at 25 m.p.h. It weighs 20 tons empty, but maybe you can add another ton for its weight when it’s packed with passengers. Think about this one: Momentum equals mass times velocity. Add mass, add momentum. Not only does that bus driver need another bus length (about 13 feet) to stop for you empty, add his passengers and you probably tack on another 2 or 3 feet. So when you’ve already run out so close as to barely graze his bike rack, things can quickly get messy.
I can’t fathom why you would do this. Perhaps you feel that since the bus driver is an employee of a company that would be liable for whatever accidents you and he might get into, that it’s his responsibility to stop in time. Perhaps instead you should give some thought to the fact that if he can’t or doesn’t follow that responsibility, he may be in the wrong, but you may be dead.
Trying to drive down North Pleasant Street while avoiding getting into a terrible accident with one of you is bad enough – like some video game conceived in hell. But when you factor in darkness, it turns into a literal nightmare. Here are a few tips that I’m sure you’ve been hearing since first grade. When walking at night, avoid wearing dark clothing. Stick to well-lighted areas and marked crosswalks if possible. Be especially careful when crossing the street at night.
Still, simple as it may sound, you actually often pick nighttime to do your worst. Cloaked in black, you come flying out of the shadowy recesses of the most ill lighted roads, and then make obscene gestures in our headlights as our brakes squeal. That isn’t just stupid – it’s simply unconscionable. Then again, since “looking both ways” seems to have become such a challenging concept, maybe the idea that darkness means that drivers can’t see you is a course to save for next semester.
Yes, I am bitter. I apologize if I sound a bit hysterical, but there’s nothing like flirting daily with vehicular manslaughter to ratchet your personal torque up just a little bit higher. After four years, that feeling really grates on a person.
During the past four years that I’ve been here, there have been a number of injuries, and even deaths, due to accidents between cars and pedestrians. I’m not saying that all of those were the pedestrian’s fault. But looking at the way you behave, even when you probably know those statistics, I can only come to the conclusion that many of them probably were.
Of course, we can debate all day if you want, about who’s to blame. But when it comes right down to it, it’s hard to argue anything if you’ve been hurt or killed because of your own carelessness. I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t genuinely care about your safety: if you can’t think about yourself, think about your friends and family. Think about the driver and what they’re dealing with. And then for Christ’s sake, look both ways.
