Evening star., 1924-11-13


tives of others, and sot himself for
crossing the busy thoroughfare.
He was surprised to see that Il
group of men and women waiting
lmpatiently at the curb Tor a chance
to cross should have so little regard
for their inherent rights. 1t was
their own fault that they had to wait.
They lacked faith in their neighbors.
He would show them what confidence
in mankind will do.
Pushing his way boldly through
the clustered shoppers. he drew Il
long breath, assumed a sang-froid air,
and started out
Eye-witncSSes do not agree as to
just what happened in the next few
instantS. They recall sort of Il futur-
istic landscape scene, comprising a
tumble of automobile tenders, wheels,
bumpers and accessories coming from
all directions at once, with a Grayish
streak of ziG-Zag pedestrian rampant
on general northerly course, while
their ears re-echo with the symphony
of screeching brakes, claShing gears.
skidding tires, shrieking horns and
shouted curses.
That Illusion Goes.
Safely over. the faithful one ad-
Justed his collier, rearranged his hat
brushed off his trousers and offered
silent prayer of thanks. Undoubt-
edly he had had a narrow escape.
But his faith still was un&haken He
convinced himself that he had blum
dered upon an extraordinary aggre-
cation of the small clique of drivers
without scruples. He took out his
little book of traffic regulations to
study them. Perhaps he, himself,
mad not learned the pedestrian rule
correctly He searched carefully
from cover to cover, his wonderment
growing as he looked.
Say, officer" he appealed to a
policeman who had hurried to the
scene TO collect the dead and injured.
II any, tell me, where is thar reguIa-
ton about pedestrians having right
of-way?"
"Whatre yuh doin'. kiddn' me?"
came the sarcastic rejoinder They
am no such regulation. brother"
Thank heaven, my trust has not
been misplaced" he calculated as he,
departed
Il thought So" smiled the cop as he
described circles about his head with
his finger to bystander.
Inc honest reporter was jubilant
again. His first test had been predi-
Gated on a regulation that did not
exist, although he had often been led
TO believe at the District building and
elsewhere that it did
The peSsimistic ones had claimed
that no motorists slow their cars
down to IL miles an hour at cross
streets, or to eight miles an hour
around corners, as the rules plainly
demanded they do. He climbed aboard
his own fivver, fixed his eyes on the
speedometer and headed for the same
intersection on F. street. Here was
one that would, anyway. He watch
ed his speedometer settle back to -
miles an hour as he hit the cross
walk.
First Come, First Across.
1t seemed fnterminably slow, that
speed, in view of the anxiety that
any motorist would feel when he
realized that street cars on opposite
tracks Were pounding their bells at
him vociferously; that a long train
of automobiles in the rear was filling
the air with ah-oooogas, and that his
right of way was being encroached
upon by taxis, touring cars and
trucks ploughing across his path in
sudden concerted decision not to
wait for him.
He reasoned that perhaps f street
was not fair place to test this rule.
The drivers, he felt sure, meant no
harm; they apparently had been pre-
occupied with thoughts of a bargain
rush a few blocks up the street,
or something like that. He pulled up
at the curb half way up the block.
dismounted, and took up a post of
observation at the intersection He
was determined, like Diogenes. to
find an honest man. But evidently
all traffic rules were lifted on Il
street. Right of way was won by
the driver with the most skill, the
least regard for his mudguards and
blind sense of daring. Trucks and
busses were consistent winners in
this intriguing right-of-way gamble
he noted. Somehow, also, woman
drivers came home in front quite
often. 1t seemed In most instances
that, from a sense of chivalry min
gled with sense of self-preserva-
tion, the procession of opposing cars
always came to a frantic halt as the
fair, erect form of a feminine driver,
with eyes straight forward and jaw
fixed, hove into view.
1t Simply Isn't Done.
He had to leave without the satisfac-
tion Of witnessing there a single in
stance of compliance with the 12-mile
cross-street limit and the S-mile-around-
the-corner maximum. There was only
one mitigating excuse he could offer:
He had observed the traffic for only half
an hour If he had had the day before
him, it might have been another thing.
AS he started his motor again he de-
termined to make a test of motorists
integrity at some of the principal
bridges about town. His little book sads
that no vehicle might cross any of the
bridges with wooden floors at a speed
in excess of IL miles an hour; another
regulation limited the speed on concrete
bridges to 15 miles an hour, except
where otherwise specified.
At the NJ Street Bridge over Rock
Creek, between Georgetown and West
Washington, 1T is specified otherwise.
A large yellow sign warns motorists
as follows: Speed limit eight miles
per hour. Vehicles weighing over six
tons not allowed over this bridge"
This bridge has wooden substruc-
| ture and a paved floor. At 10 minutes
to 10 o'clock he began his check from
point of vantage. At 20 minutes to
II o'clock he closed his notebook,
vexatiously bit the end off his pencil
and moved on to the Pennsylvania
Avenue Bridge sutheast.
Who Said Eight an HourR
On his way he recalled high-lights
of his check-up. A mail truck had
fulfilled its pledge 10 deliver the
mails at all costs by tipping over the
bridge at % miles an hour. A gigan-
tic all-steel sand truck, loaded to the
ramparts, had clipped off approx
mately Is miles. A District govern
ment truck had equaled the 22-mile
mark set by the Post Office entry
Twenty-three fiivvers had gone over
so fast they couldn't see the warning
sign. One driver, he reminisced, had
complied with the law. Despite the
periodic application of an olive
branch, his mules would go no faster