You, young lady, that just stepped off the sidewalk in front of me ... Yes, you ... You've done that to me five times this fall, twice after dark. No, I don't mind stopping at all. You are superior to my automobile, and infinitely more precious. I like the pride that keeps you from looking to right or left. I like that studied indifference and those arms full of books. You're going somewhere, young lady, and I may even have an opportunity to help somewhere along the line.
Would you take one word of advice? It's just a little thing. Don't gamble with me and my car. I saw you this time and those other times, but once at night I didn't see you until the last minute, and this morning you just seemed to step out of nowhere.
In a year or two you'll be having children of your own, and I have an idea you'll spank them hard for doing what you just did. Because you'll love them.
What if something distracts my attention just for a second? An accident in the other lane? Or a loud, sudden noise? Just for a second, mind you.
But time would stop on that second for both of us. No, I don't mind stopping at all. It's the law. But do what you can to make sure I see you, and that I stop ... in time.
John A Green
Oct. 7, 1966