Not a Minneapolis story, but - I think - a little morality tale of broad relevance: Very early Tuesday morning a little before daybreak my sister Julie - not a paragon of liberal virtue at times - was on her way to work at a New Orleans hospital in the Garden District. She was stopped at a light, about to turn onto I-90, the high-speed elevated can of worms that carries a huge volume of urban traffic. A young black man in a rusted car beside her was gesturing persistently at her to roll down her window. He smiled and mouthed words at her. She was annoyed and was just about to flip him off when something stopped her almost in mid-gesture. Instead, she rolled down her window and asked, "What?" "Your tire, lady! I'm just saying your tire tread is separating. Don't you go get on that freeway and get yourself killed! Go get your tire fixed." She felt a little bit ashamed of herself.
