As I zoom downhill on my way to work in the morning, a pedestrian on the other side of the street starts to sprint as full speed across the street, jay-walker style. She is bolting for all she’s worth. I’ve never seen anyone sprint with such gusto while carrying a backpack. It’s after she crosses the center-line and reaches the middle of the car lane that she sees me in the bike lane. That’s when she stopped cold; deer-in-headlights.

“IT’S OK, PEDESTRIAN, I ALREADY SEE YOU.
I’VE BEEN WATCHING YOU SINCE YOU WERE ON THE SIDEWALK.
I ALREADY STOPPED.
I WON’T HIT YOU.
I PROMISE.”

Once I waved her on, she walked the rest of the way across the street and to her bus stop.

Fremont Bridge Bike Count: 333