Private Transit Causes Personal Injury
The dinner and romance of Valentine’s Day screeched to a halt when I, about a month ago, was run over by a San Francisco taxicab. 16th and Valencia is normally home to burritos, ice cream carts, and sunny weather; this dreadful morning, though, the intersection witnessed a devastating upset in civilization’s favorite internal combustion game: man vs. machine.
My two-wheeled 150cc Vespa collided with a four-wheeled taxi and I have a broken leg to prove it. I was traveling about 30mph eastbound on 16th Street, the cabbie was going westbound also at about 30mph. That’s an estimated 60 miles per hour of force. The driver made a sharp turn onto Valencia, but failed to see this blog contributor as he rammed directly into the side of my bike, throwing me to the pavement and smashing my scooter into oblivion.
I still remember many things as I fell to the ground– hearing the onlookers shout, watching the medics cut through my perfectly good clothes, and finally arriving to San Francisco General. Yet, very honestly, the most pressing thought at the time, even as I realized my right leg wouldn’t move, was that my Vespa may not survive this one.
The silver beauty was my pride and joy. I managed a college coffee shop for two years to pay it off, lovingly wheeled it through my kitchen for safekeeping during upstate New York winters, and most of all, rode it hard. Many of my fondest memories, especially going full throttle with Erin singing in the wind, are associated with that blessed machine. And relevant to the MGW mission, my scooter purchase proved that getting around town doesn’t require belching tons of diesel fumes.
For the simple reason that you can live large and fill-up small, two-wheelers are the kings of private transit. Taxicabs, on the contrary, are the lowest of the low– carbon bigfoots and the nemesis of public transportation.
But the best of private transit is still not public transit. I live to tell all readers that taking transportation of any kind into your own hands is risky. You may face dangerous and unpleasant circumstances. You may have titanium rod and screw implants. You may not even live to tell your tale. The safer and easier bet is climbing into an enormous, practically bombproof Muni trolleybus to have the driver chauffeur you around. No risk of bodily harm here.
Even dangling off the edge of a Cable Car comes with Muni’s guarantee to safely deliver passengers to their destinations. Moreover, with someone doing the driving for you, your daily commute is transformed into a luxury experience. Suddenly a ride across town can substitute as productive work time, relaxing rest time, or in the case of MGW, reckless playtime.
As the triumphant survivor to a major auto-borne trauma, I advise two things:
1) if you demand immediate mobility and unparalleled freedom, buy a Vespa, but be sure to invest in a sturdy helmet; otherwise
2) ride the San Francisco rails.