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Transit Karma

June 1, 2010
by

For those of you who are regular readers, you already know that the biggest reason I ride transit is because I hate to drive.  I mean, the environmentalism aspect is cool and I pretend it gets me brownie points with One, but really, I hate being in a car and I’m afraid that I’m going to kill someone one day.  Not because I can’t drive, but that most of the people out there can’t and it infuriates me.  So until they come up with a teleportation device or some other magical way to beam me from the shelter to whatever coffee shop I’m meeting That’s Marta! at, I’m taking MARTA.  I’m actually waiting on them to build me my own personal railway line up to Virginia so I don’t have to make that six  hour drive every time I want to see my family.

But today I was lazy.  I needed to run by the house and the bank and then to SIP to do work, and by work I mean blog.  So after hitting up the bank, I headed to SIP and was accosted by the very reason why I don’t drive.  I was privy to the worst accident I’ve ever seen.  And I was nearly a part of it.

I was driving along my merry way on Piedmont when a van pulled out in to traffic.  I slammed on the breaks and swerved, thank God there was no one in the lane to my left, but the woman in the lane to my right wasn’t so lucky.  Her VW was hit on the front quarter panel, driver’s side, and her bumper ended up way down Pharr street (pronounced FAR.  Who the hell gets to name streets in Atlanta?)  So old van lady took out the VW lady and two other ladies waiting patiently at the light before coming to a stop.  I pulled into the gas station and ran over to check on VW, some other bystander checked on old van lady.

The VW took a rough hit and the lady ended up taking a trip to Piedmont.  It’s only by the grace of God that it wasn’t me, and I took it hard and ended up sitting in my car crying, then proceeded to call One to ask for a hug.  He wasn’t at the office but off at a meeting, the jerk.  Who schedules meetings during my irrational meltdowns, anyways?  Instead, I borrowed the Bus Nerd for hugs and conversation until I calmed my happy butt down.

But the crazy thing about all of this happened as I exchanged information with the VW lady in case she needed anything or a witness for insurance.  I gave her my card and she gave me hers, and that’s when we noticed one anothers’ name.  Her name is Anne.  We have the same last name, both of our first names start with A, and she works for the Metropolitan Atlanta Transit Consultants, a group that consults with MARTA.

I’m not sure if the transit gods are telling me to get my butt out of the car and onto the bus or if they’re giving me karma for being so retardly dedicated to MARTA.  Either way, this reinforces my own disdain for being a car owner.

I did check up on AR (the VW lady) later on in the evening and she’s doing okay.  And I did finally get a hug from One.

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