Read my latest flash, Venison, at 52|250.

Today as I was hauling yet another stack of books home from the library, a woman in an ugly purple luxury car nearly hit me due to her failure to look for pedestrians before passing through a four-way stop. Being the militant pedestrian that I am, I muttered “watch where you’re going, cutie.” I didn’t scream (like I did to frighten the high school boys who thought screaming woo at me while I was jogging was funny), but I did say it loud enough that had her windows been down, which they should have been given today’s heat, she would have heard me.

Then I noticed that all the cars that passed me had their windows up: auto air conditioning has won, which means that driving becomes an even more closed-off experience, insulating drivers from the insults and anger of wronged pedestrians and cyclists. That insulation increases the feeling of prerogative possessed by certain drivers who rage when someone not encased in a car dares to slow down their progress.

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