%1

I was judged last week. I had been dreading my 3:00 p.m. appointment at the City of Atlanta Traffic Court ever since the policeman handed me the yellow citation a month and a half earlier. In a sudden slowdown on the downtown expressway, I rear-ended a Toyota van loaded with a full-sized refrigerator. One second later a Ford truck rear-ended me, and my beloved 1987 Saab became the mashed filling in a three-car sandwich.