Driving Miss Crazy
It's a scary thing to drive in Koreatown in Los Angeles, especially if you're Korean. In most places where the concentration of Korean drivers is not so high, there are usually enough good drivers that accidents can be avoided. I don't mean to sound prejudiced toward my own people - I am the first to admit that I am no Dale Earnhardt Jr. myself and I am not saying that top-notch Korean drivers do not exist. The truth is, however, I make a conscious effort to avoid Koreatown, not just because it's a police trap, the police know a good thing when they see it, but because I just can't trust that someone will be there to compensate for those inevitable moments when I suddenly forget how to drive.
It may sound like I am exaggerating when I say you risk your life each time you drive in an area with a high concentration of Korean drivers, but even if you don’t hit, the possibility (the very real possibility) of near-accidents and all the mayhem that is associated with them surely must shave years off of one’s life.
Today, for example, three other pedestrians and myself were waiting for the walk sign to make our way across Wilshire Boulevard. When the light turned green, I hesitated to step onto the road because I noticed in my periphery that the car in the lane closest to us was not slowing down. The others, however, had already stepped into the street and were nearly mowed down by the elderly Korean lady driving with a handicap plaque hanging from her rear view mirror. Fortunately, her car came to a screeching halt right before she reached the walkway. All of my fellow crosswalkers (men included) let out a gasp of terror when they realized how close they had been to becoming human bowling pins.
Then, as I was driving away from the office, I was uncomfortably close to being sideswiped by a young Korean man who was relying solely on his side rearview mirror to make a lane change out of a lane blocked by traffic turning left. I swerved to avoid contact, but the stress involved in nearly colliding made me feel a year of my life slipping away in an instant.
It may sound like I am exaggerating when I say you risk your life each time you drive in an area with a high concentration of Korean drivers, but even if you don’t hit, the possibility (the very real possibility) of near-accidents and all the mayhem that is associated with them surely must shave years off of one’s life.
Today, for example, three other pedestrians and myself were waiting for the walk sign to make our way across Wilshire Boulevard. When the light turned green, I hesitated to step onto the road because I noticed in my periphery that the car in the lane closest to us was not slowing down. The others, however, had already stepped into the street and were nearly mowed down by the elderly Korean lady driving with a handicap plaque hanging from her rear view mirror. Fortunately, her car came to a screeching halt right before she reached the walkway. All of my fellow crosswalkers (men included) let out a gasp of terror when they realized how close they had been to becoming human bowling pins.
Then, as I was driving away from the office, I was uncomfortably close to being sideswiped by a young Korean man who was relying solely on his side rearview mirror to make a lane change out of a lane blocked by traffic turning left. I swerved to avoid contact, but the stress involved in nearly colliding made me feel a year of my life slipping away in an instant.
posted by Suzanna | 8:45 PM
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