If you want to live dangerously but can’t manage to get to Australia for some bungee jumping or you have no time for a climb up Mount Everest, let me suggest a walk along Las Flores Canyon Road. Some serious work is being done somewhere up the canyon, and the trucks are racing up and down as if they’re practicing for Indianapolis.
The trucks are huge and they often overlap the center stripe of this narrow road. As I emerged from the offices of The Malibu Times, I heard the loud blare of a horn and then the squeaking of breaks. A woman drove up and stopped in front of me. She was white-faced and said she had almost been killed by a truck that sped by in the opposite direction and took up part of her lane. He missed her by “that much.”
Just then a car drove up behind her and, instead of stopping, he drove into the oncoming lane and passed her, on a curve, going about 50 miles an hour.
As I walked to my car, parked along the verge, I had to jump to the side every time I heard the roar of a truck. It was not the kind of exercise I craved.
A police officer could save lives and make a few bucks for the county if the speeding trucks were ticketed.
J. P. Schoen