Pedestrian and Cyclist Deaths in Toronto
Pedestrian and Cyclist Deaths in Toronto have been in the news. Last month we appear to have broken some kind of record with Eighteen Reported Collisions. Reported collisions do not include unreported collisions, and if you spend any time Walking or Cycling around Toronto you will know that there are numerous collisions that do not involve a Police or Hospital Report.
The truck shown above is braking to a stop after turning left into southbound Huron Street after traveling west along College Street, Right outside the Lillian H. Smith branch of the Toronto Public Library, where I was headed shortly before nine o’clock on the morning of Wednesday 2nd of November.
It has taken me this long to calm down enough to write this little piece without swear-words.
And here is the driver, a bully and a coward employed by the City of Toronto. His job includes honking his horn belligerently and screaming abuse at an eastbound cyclist who was interfering with the bully’s left-hand turn across an opposing traffic stream.
To do what? To park improperly and collect two bags of dead leaves the way one might collect limbs of dead pedestrians and cyclists and pop them into plastic bags for disposal.
We know that the guy is a coward because he did not want to engage in dialogue with me when I challenged him. His life is centered on collecting dead leaves, and the life or death or injury of Toronto City’s pedestrian and cyclists is not part of his job description.
So why should he care?
The registration number of his truck is “403 5YE” should anyone out there care about the life or death or injury of Toronto City’s pedestrians and cyclists.
I have bet myself a tub of ice-cream that apart from me and the cyclist involved, no-one really cares about the safety of Toronto City’s pedestrian and cyclists.
The City of Toronto pays people to drive trucks in an abusive manner. With this sort of example being set by the city executives, why should any driver care about the safety of pedestrians and cyclists?
I am not afraid of bullies and cowards like this driver. I can deal with them. I am afraid of the power they are given from within the safety of their half-ton Toronto City Truck.
The City of Toronto
So yesterday I decided to walk down to City Hall to drop off a letter to the Mayor John Tory and to my local Councillor Kristyn Wong-Tam. Save myself a couple of bucks postage by walking.
Down to City Hall, past the outside security chaps (who never ask to look inside my orange satchel crammed with heavy objects) and across the foyer to the security guy sitting at his desk.
I pull out my two hand-written envelopes and ask where I might drop them off. Oh, second floor. Take the elevator behind that screen and you’ll find two reception offices. Use either one.
I wait at the elevator for a couple of minutes, then give in and head back to the stairs, up to the second floor, around the circular corridor, and into the mayor’s reception.
I pull out my two hand-written envelopes and ask where I might drop them off. Oh, first floor. Take the elevator behind you and you’ll find the Security desk. There is a mail box right there.
Huh? I just came from there.
Well, I don’t know why he sent you up here, but it is down there that mail must go.
I head back to the ground floor, to the guy at the Security desk. Hi. Upstairs they told me that you have a letter box beside your desk.
Oh? That’s news to him. I spot a wooden pillar to my left, could this be it? He dunno, he’ll find out. He picks up the phone?
I think, what is this? Is this the Toronto City’s way of treating a would-be suicide bomber like a pin-ball, bouncing him around while the local police race in from all four nearby donut shops?
Near the wooden pillar is a trolley with plastic bins and a blue-rinse little old lady who assures me that yes, she collects mail. It all has to be x-rayed before being delivered.
So presumably a blue-rinse little old lady is expendable whereas a nubile young virgin can no longer be sacrificed.
I drop my two letters of complaint and walk home contemplating a second letter of complaint.