Let me take you into the tangled undergrowth of the busy intersection. Here we can watch the swarms of car-beasts as they fight for a run of the green light. If antagonized, they can be known to attack at incredible speeds. But look! Standing on the sidewalk is the lesser-spotted pedestrian. Don't move, you may frighten it away. Rarely do we witness such a beautiful animal in close proximity to the car-beasts. Now watch our specimen risk life and limb as it courageously steps into the road to seek a path through the intersection and onto its campus. A few near misses, as stray car-beasts blindly turn corners or fail to heed red lights. Limbs intact, this has been a success.
I am the lesser-spotted pedestrian. And my seven months on these shores has shown me that Tempe drivers have no respect for people who use their legs to get around. Every morning I stand at Rural and Terrace roads, sweating with chronic fear of the task ahead of me. Red lights count for nothing if you want to stop a speeding car in Tempe because we reportedly rack up a cool average of roughly 15,000 red light runs every year, the most in the nation. Not surprising when I think back to all the times I've had my knee caps whipped off at 50 miles an hour as an obnoxious driver tries to shave a few seconds off his destination time. If you're lucky, brakes will be slammed on just in time for the lights, and despite the palpitations, you can venture to the opposite side of the road intact.
Let me write this in monosyllables, to prevent confusion; speed kills, slow down. If you own a car, miles of straight roads and Ford Explorers sniffing your backside make it tempting to put your foot down. The most recent report by Fatality Analysis Reporting System states that in 2002 there were 38,309 fatal crashes across the States which resulted in 4,808 pedestrian deaths. Significantly, only 40 percent of the crashes were accredited to intoxication, which means there is a whopping proportion of people who aren't DUI but still insist on driving like blind hooligans. Don't be lulled by the jazzed-up safety features of your car because unfortunately humans aren't built with them too.
Admittedly, it isn't beyond reason that a percentage of pedestrian deaths are attributable to jaywalking or drunken bar-crawls. But I doubt small children have been at the liquor cabinet before they stray into the road to retrieve their soccer balls. By reducing your speed from 35 to 30 mph, the force of impact on a human body is one-third less which, combined with the reduced braking distance, means you can save the 5-year-old boy and the pissed-up student.
Not convinced yet? OK, in 1973 an oil embargo from the Middle East prompted President Nixon to impose a national speed limit of 55 mph to reduce gas consumption, and within a year traffic fatalities dropped by 23 percent. As much as my 7000-lb-steel-box-driving contemporaries bemoan the recent jump in gas prices across the Valley, maybe it is a blessing in disguise. Maybe you'll slow down at the thought of digging deep in your pockets every time you turn the ignition, if not to save a life. Or moreover the thought of the whopping fine you might have to pay. Because I've heard on the grapevine that Tempe has got a little tired of all this speeding malarkey and has already installed two red lights and two photo radar cameras in the city. If they follow the lead of Glendale, you could be swallowing a $500 fine and 90-day license suspension if you manage to injure someone.
And it damn well serves you right. Speeding is selfish and careless. The lesser-spotted pedestrians don't want to be victims of the car-beasts anymore, and they are putting their feet down. You'll find organizations all over the place asking for awareness and respect for those who choose to use the method of transportation nature gave them. On average a pedestrian is killed every 111 minutes in a traffic crash throughout the U.S., and I'm planning on crossing my intersection in the next hour. So heed the advice of the Arizona Office of Highway Safety slogan, "Red means stop, yellow means brake, don't run red, lives are at stake!" and hold your head in shame that someone is paid to come up with that crap.
Katie-Ellen McCrory is a history junior. Reach her at kathleen-ellen.mccrory@asu.edu.
