That b*tch nearly killed me.
I would have been killed (or at least, ended up in hospital) if
I hadn't thrown myself out of the way.
And she had no reason for not seeing me. As dark as it was, I
was in stark white, with reflector strips, a flashing bicycle
light, and I had started crossing well before the car reached the
zebra crossing. The reason for my attire was simple: I was out
running at night, and I took all reasonable safety precautions. And
I didn't run across the road; I walked.
And how did I know the driver was a woman? Simple; I looked at
the driver as the car approached. Where possible I always try to
make eye contact with drivers at zebra crossings so that I know
that they actually notice me.
Then, instead of like, stopping the car and getting out to check
on me, she just blared the horn and drove off.
Yes, it's not good to go around cursing people. But I have a
very simple view of things: if you're a maniacal homicidal driver,
then I hope you kill yourself first before you kill others.
