Confessions of a Triskaidekaphobe

Friday, December 13, 1996, I found myself driving eastbound on Los Angeles Avenue in Simi Valley, on my way to a Carl’s Jr. to order food for myself, my friend Andy, and several other coworkers at Edwards Simi 10 Cinemas. And as I approached the intersection of L.A. Avenue and Sycamore, I suddenly realized I was in the rightmost lane and would soon miss the left lane that would allow my approaching turn. In a moment of haste, I began to merge left having checked only my side mirror, but not my blind spot. No matter what anyone says, it will forever be the case that the one instance you fail to check said blind spot during a lane change, it will be hiding an enormous Peterbilt, with a bumper wide as a bulldozer blade and front grill like the grimace of a giant Halloween mask. Murphy’s Law, it seems, in all its