[By Merlin Lessler]<\/p>\n
Most mornings I leave the coffee group I hang out with, walk a quarter of a mile through a shopping plaza parking lot, and then halfway across a busy four-lane street to a small island space between the two northbound lanes and the two southbound lanes. I wait there, and when no cars are coming, I hustle the rest of the way across. I use the word \u201chustle\u201d loosely, because my stride is anything but. <\/span><\/p>\n Anyhow, from there, I walk back toward the intersection I avoided by crossing in the middle of the block, take a left down the sidewalk to the beach, and then onward, either north or south for a half-mile or more, depending on what the tide is doing. When it\u2019s low tide, the beach is wide and flat; at high tide it\u2019s narrow and slanted\u2014not a good way for an old coot to walk. That\u2019s what dictates how far I will go. <\/span><\/p>\n I cross paths with an old guy on my walk; one day I found him crossing the road in the same spot I do. (He\u2019s 90, so I can call him an old guy.) We\u2019d nod and say good morning most times, but that day, I said, \u201cJack, I see you cross in the same spot I do.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n He smiled and said, \u201cOh yeah; if you cross at the traffic light, even with a green pedestrian arrow, a car turning right on red can run you over.\u201d Drivers only look left to make sure no cars are coming, and then bolt right into the crosswalk. <\/span><\/p>\n