April 19–26, 2001

slant

Driven to Distraction

She took a wrong turn, but this particular writer should have known better.

by Gwen Shaffer

While most Philadelphians were out enjoying the sunshine Saturday, I was tagging behind District Attorney Lynne Abraham as she stumped across the city for re-election.

First, let’s establish the fact that I despise driving. I have never owned a car and hope I never have to. The closest I get to automotive issues is when they intersect with a story — like, for instance, the two articles I wrote last year denouncing Philadelphia police for failing to ticket drivers who ignore the bus/bike lane on Chestnut Street.

However, I realized it was unrealistic to try and follow Abraham around town by catching a series of SEPTA buses and trains. And "nobody rides in Lynne’s car," according to her campaign spokesman, Vincent Thompson. Too bad, because that baby blue Crown Royal does look like it can cruise (and I could see for myself if the district attorney actually does stop to feed stray cats). With no other alternative, I broke down Friday night and did the inevitable — I asked my boyfriend if I could borrow his Chevy Prism.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust me. He just doesn’t trust me behind the wheel of a car.

But for the sake of journalistic freedom (and in exchange for helping him fill out his tax returns), my boyfriend gave the okay. First, he lectured me on the grave importance of using The Club®, taking the curves slowly on Lincoln Drive and only parking in legal spots. One more unpaid ticket and he risks the dreaded boot, he warned.

My plan was to leave the house by 11 o’clock Saturday morning — allowing enough time to buy batteries for the tape recorder and stop for a bagel.

Unfortunately, I slept in later than I should have. And when I glanced at Abraham’s schedule, it occurred to me that I had no idea how to get to some of her campaign stops. I am geographically challenged, so relying on my sense of direction was not an option. I ended up studying maps of Philadelphia for half an hour. When I finally rushed out of the house at 11:30 a.m., it was too late to stop for breakfast.

By Saturday afternoon, I had successfully made it to Abraham’s various campaign stops. The last one I hit was a candidates’ forum in Mt. Airy. After sitting through a dozen campaign pitches by judicial candidates — who, apparently, have all spent their entire lives fighting for fairness and justice — at last Abraham and her challenger, Alex Talmadge, were called to the podium.

They spouted the same rhetoric you’ve heard countless times before: Abraham stressed she is running on her venerable record. Talmadge questioned why Philadelphia’s criminal justice system treats African Americans more harshly than whites. By the time the forum wrapped up around 5 p.m., I was anxious to get home and, beyond that, to eat something. As I stuffed a reporter’s notebook into my bag, Thompson asked if I’d mind giving him a lift back downtown.

"Hop in the car," I said.

After dropping Thompson off outside City Hall, I turned onto Chestnut Street. It was packed with Saturday shoppers holding up traffic. My stomach grumbling, I knew I needed to get out of there quickly.

So I made an immediate right turn onto 12th Street.

A cop crossing the intersection on foot ordered me to pull over.

"I need your driver’s license and automobile registration," he demanded through my open car window. The cop took the items out of my hand and walked about six feet away from the car. Through the rearview mirror, I could see him calling in my information, but I had absolutely no idea why he’d pulled me over. When I attempted to walk over and ask him, his partner warned me to stay in the car.

After what felt like an eternity — actually, it was more like 15 minutes — the police officer sauntered back over to my car.

"I am citing you for making an illegal right turn off Chestnut Street," he said, handing me a $94 moving violation ticket.

I had to laugh at the irony. Even after following the law all day — quite literally, in the form of the district attorney — I get busted for not following the law. And the reason I get busted? Me, the crusader for bicyclists’ rights, who not only writes articles on the subject but routinely curses out drivers as they cut me off to pass in a marked bike lane? I get busted because I was so intent on making a beeline for my refrigerator that I failed to realize I was in a restricted lane.

When I walked in the front door, I told my boyfriend what had just happened. "Isn’t it ironic that I got a ticket for turning off Chestnut Street when I’ve criticized other drivers for doing the same thing in the City Paper?"

"That’s not ironic," he laughed. "It’s hypocritical!"

Obviously, he’d forgotten how mean I get when I’m hungry.