Last month, I was hit by an SUV, but in my hurry, I barely stopped and continued walking. The driver, a woman with greying hair, mouthed her apologies through her closed window. I have not driven in eight years; instead, I am a regular pedestrian and bus rider. I’ve had many close calls, but September 26 was full body contact.

Around noon, I was walking by Coldwell Banker’s driveway, not far from the McDonald’s on upper State. I saw her pull up and wait for passing traffic from her left. I figured she would look right again before attempting her turn into traffic, but she didn’t. I was directly in the center of her BMW’s front end when she accelerated. Startled, with only inches between us, I only had a moment to jump, raise my hand, and slam it, hard, on the hood. Briefly knocked off balance, I spun around. Walking backward, I pointed to my eyes and shouted to her, “Eyes, eyes!”

I didn’t want a public confrontation with an older woman, so I continued walking. I was headed for a morning doctor’s appointment with my son for his one-year checkup and immunizations. If I had been the one driving, I would have parked and met with the person I had just struck — and I would hope most people would. The woman had nearly killed the father of a one-year-old and didn’t even roll down her window.

An older gentleman had passed just moments before. What if it had been him? What if it had been a child?

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