One month. January 2020. Four things that I’ve only experienced living in a big city.
Wrong way Amazon van
The first incident can only be described as wacky. I was jogging north on Arlington Avenue. I first noticed a car stopped in the right lane. My eye quickly noticed the Amazon delivery van behind it. Turning around quickly, the van driver headed the other direction, going north in the southbound lane.
To the north, the next stoplight was three blocks away. As the driver sped away, I noticed the light turn green and the southbound traffic begin to move. Surely, those vehicles saw the wrong way van.
Glancing back at the van, the driver reached a side street. Careening over the concrete in the median, the van was now headed the right direction. Turning the stoplight corner, it vanished.
The woman got out of the stopped car. “Did you see that?! The woman in that van hit me and then took off!”
I had not see the collision. But, having seen what I had, I agreed to tell the police, should they investigate. We traded phone numbers.
I’ve not heard from anyone.
The street is our trash can
Julie and I pulled up to the intersection nearest our house. The light was red. In the photo, below, we are the green waiting behind the red.
The red car’s front passenger door opened. Before we could wonder what was up, out came an arm. The hand holding the foam cup dropped it onto the street.
“What the heck?”
The person wasn’t done. Out came the arm again, the hand dropping another cup.
“Man, I’d love to get out, pick up those cups, and tell that person they dropped something.”
The light changed. We moved on. Just another littering scene in the city.
The world is our outhouse
Four weeks after the wrong-way van incident, I was a block south of that spot. Across the street, I man was walking. He left the sidewalk. I wondered what he was doing.
The arrow, above, points to the spot he stopped. Since it’s January, it looks a lot different. The area is all scrub brush.
He stopped at the edge of the scrub. He proceeded to assume the position.
In full view of the street, he relieved himself.
It was then that I began thinking, “What a month it’s been. I need to blog about this.”
It’s not okay to let your dogs terrorize people on the street
I’ve been jogging for forty years. Before moving to Indianapolis, I could count on one hand the number of times a loose dog gave me trouble. Here, it only takes a few months to fill five fingers.
Last year, my concern was heightened when, for the first time, large dogs came into the street after me. Before two months elapsed, that happened three times. I now feared I could be seriously hurt. I knew I had to do something.
I now wear this horn when I run:
I had it the final six months of 2019. I used it five times.
This January, I’ve already used it three times.
And, here’s the thing. I’m going down all the same roads, yet I’m encountering dogs out of their yards where I’ve never had to be concerned.
This is a three-pronged thing.
- The law is that your pets are not to be out in the street.
- Owners should be concerned for the welfare of their pets.
- These are city streets, and joggers and walkers should not have to fear for their safety from straying dogs.
Whether or not I see a person (I rarely do), I holler, “Your dog doesn’t belong in the street!” I hope the owners hear the horn.
The dogs do. So far, it’s worked every time.
I wonder how the peeing man would react to it.