Running Red Lights - #9174
March 10, 2022
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Okay, we didn't have much of a car in the first place. It was less of a car by the end of the day. We hadn't been married very long, and our used car was pretty humble, but it was ours. We were in heavy traffic in downtown Chicago about five o'clock one afternoon, sitting in the middle of one of those Rush Hour blood clots they call a "traffic jam." I'd stopped for a red light not far from the Art Institute on Michigan Boulevard. I can still picture this. To our right, was a city bus that pretty much blocked my view of the traffic on the intersecting street. The light turned green. I drove out into the intersection. Bam! Suddenly we were hit very hard, stopped cold, and left with a crumpled hood with smoke coming from underneath. A delivery truck had run the red light and into us. Thankfully, we weren't hurt. Our little car was, though! It wouldn't move. So we just went to the curb and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for help to come, and we watched as one driver after another pulled up to this car of ours that was obviously wrecked, unoccupied, disabled, and they honked. Weird!