Jim Goldsworthy, Columnist
I sometimes tell people the most difficult thing I have to do is to walk across Mechanic Street near the newspaper office.
Usually, I go halfway down the block and cross there, rather than trying to get a walk light at the corner of Baltimore Street, because some drivers ignore the walk light. In the middle of the block, I’ve only got to watch for traffic coming in two different directions.
What I see is often entertaining ... if that’s the right word. There are times when I wonder if I’m going to be the witness to an accident or a fight.
If there were possums downtown and they tried to cross Mechanic Street, the carnage would be hideous. (When people remark about having seen a dead possum along the road, I react with horror and disgust and say, “Damn these possums! I keep telling them to ask the chickens to show them how it’s done, but they never listen to me!” This is one of the ways I remind folks that I am crazy.)
Years ago, while a passenger — as a reporter, not as a subject in custody — in an Allegany County Sheriff’s Department cruiser, I saw first-hand that many motorists apparently don’t check their rear-view mirrors often enough to notice that a police car is behind them, with all of its lights flashing as a sign that they need to pull over and get out of the way.
Nothing I’ve seen since has convinced me that things have changed.
Because Mechanic Street is home to the police and fire departments’ headquarters, it is a launching point for police cars, fire trucks and ambulances that frequently are in a hurry to go somewhere there is an urgent need for them.
It is amazing how many civilians continue to drive on, blissfully unaware that an emergency vehicle is bearing down in them — even when its sirens are going.
Recently, an ambulance and three police cars came by with lights and sirens going full-blast in a southbound procession on Mechanic Street. Some of the cars who were heading south toward the stoplight at Baltimore Street made no effort to get out of their way, and one car that was heading north almost turned left at the light to cut in front of them.
After the light turned red, two motorists who were halted in the northbound lane got into a shouting match that apparently had to do with who could have — or should have — driven around the truck that was operated by somebody who actually noticed that a convoy of emergency vehicles was coming through and decided it would be a good thing to stop.
There’s a national movement to inform people of the dangers of cell-phoning and texting while driving, and I reflected upon that recently when a young woman drove past me while texting and trying to manage a cup of coffee at the same time.
It’s not just women. I once followed for several miles a man who was talking on his cell phone with his left hand, then decided to light a cigarette with his right.
The only thing I can figure is that such people must be driving with their knees. That is something I’ve never tried, and with good reason.
When I was in high school, one of my buddies drove his car into a tree at such a high rate of speed that the engine wound up 90 feet from the crash scene.
In today’s kindler and gentler (and far less practical) world, they would probably bring a crisis response team of counselors to the school. Back then, they put us on buses and took us to show us what was left of the car. The idea was to let us see for ourselves the possible consequences of Driving While Stupid.
A friend who often sits out on the Mall agrees with me that Walking While Distracted is also dangerous. Just seeing isn’t enough for us; we also like to hear what’s going on.
“I used to go around with one of those Walkmen,” he said, “until somebody almost ran over me.”
The other day, I watched as a guy wearing headphones walked out in front of a police cruiser that was coming down Mechanic Street with every light it had flashing, but no siren. The cop slowed down, maneuvered carefully around him, and went on his way.
A few minutes later, a pretty young girl in cutoff shorts, a tank top and sandals (I didn’t notice if she had headphones) was halfway across Mechanic at the corner of Baltimore when a man stopped his car and let her go by. She high-tailed it the rest of the way and went on up the Mall.
“Don’t blame ya, bud,” I said, “I wouldn’t have hit her, either.”
Soon after that, a rumpled-looking young man, wearing headphones and a backpack, ambled his way across the street. He made it to the other side, well ahead of another car whose driver stopped and laid on the horn when he went past. Fortunately, the car behind him managed to stop in time.
(Somewhere, it is written that some people can get away with things other people can’t ... especially when one of them is a pretty young girl, and the other one isn’t.)
That sequence of events reminded me of a time when I was on one side of the street, and a friend of mine who hadn’t missed too many meals was on the other.
My buddy was obviously trying to get across to my side, and a woman stopped her car and motioned for him to go ahead.
He hustled his way across, and when the lady drove on, I was able to see that she must have been somewhere between eight and nine months pregnant.
When I began to laugh, she saw me, looked back at me with one of the biggest grins I’d seen for a long time and nodded her head.
“Ain’t it nice,” I asked my friend, “how now and then you can find somebody who understands?”
As to what he said in response, I’ll have to leave that to your imagination.
