The driver was the catalyst, the street was the cause

For my first 10 years in Portland, I lived in the same house and used the same four bus stops: One to go east, one to go west, one to go north, one to go south.

The bus stops to go north and south frightened me. Their street was too narrow for the amount and speed of traffic using it. Besides that, it was an old street that wasn't quite straight or level, and had poor visibility at some intersections because of narrow sidewalks and mature trees in awkward places. To drive that street at the posted speed required the driver to pay careful attention, and every now and then the sidewalk would claim another fender.

Standing at those bus stops, I always knew that it wasn't just fenders that could be broken. It wouldn't take much for a car to lose control and careen onto the sidewalk. I watched ongoing traffic closely, because my life might depend on it.

A drunk driver who was speeding lost control Saturday evening, and killed one of my colleagues as she waited at the bus stop that goes south. She was universally beloved by those who worked with her, and leaves behind a grieving husband and two small children. It didn't have to happen. It didn't have to happen.