Rubbernecking is a dangerous sport. I should know, because I just about hit a cop on my drive to the racket club. There was a traffic accident on the corner of Main and King, blocking the entrance to the Java Hut. The ornate “Open” sign inside the Java Hut window taunted me -- if I could just get past the yellow barricades, I thought. As I surveyed the wreckage, mourning the loss of my morning coffee, I almost missed the fact that the streetlight had changed from green to red. As I slammed on the breaks, with my car stopping inches from a police officer crossing the road, I knew that I was in big trouble.