Yes, you, Ma’am. The one with the blond, neckline bob… driving the silver minivan with your daughter in the passenger seat, taking the offramp to 7100 from I66 in Virginia. I was the rider you almost killed. What? What do you mean “what rider?” When you came right, into my lane, at the last minute… you didn’t see me in your mirror? I saw you… your head didn’t turn a whit. Your daughter saw me when I laid on the horn.. yet still you came over. Why? What cause have I given you to kill me? I was riding safely, legally, completely within my lane. I was riding on my commute, to work, on my 37th Birthday. Very close to having been my last one. I had my auxilliary headlights on for good visibility, wearing light colored riding clothes.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you!” you say? Ma’am, respectfully, by not looking in your mirror before you moved your 4,000 pound vehicle, you took that risk. Do you want your daughter to have to go to school and say “My mommy murdered a motorcyclist yesterday, I’m scared she’ll go to prison!” You know what spared you and your daughter the humiliation? God, my peripheral vision, and my reflexes.
Wake up. Please.
Mark Salowitz (The man you almost killed)