About a year ago, I was walking north on 15th Street NW near Massachusetts Avenue. It was evening rush hour, so the corner was humming. Suddenly, it was seething.

A woman in a sports car ran a red light and plowed into a taxi. The two vehicles ended up in a steaming, crumpled, antifreeze-leaking heap in the middle of the intersection.

It looked as if at least one of the drivers might have been hurt, so I dashed for a pay phone and called 911. Two police cars arrived within 30 seconds. After the two officers radioed for an ambulance and freed up the traffic jam, I handed my business card to one officer, told him I was a witness and said I'd be willing to testify in any legal action. Several other witnesses did the same. It was good citizenship on parade.

But good citizenship took a hike on May 12 at 23rd Street and Virginia Avenue NW.

A Falls Church reader writes that her daughter was smacked by another driver in the middle of that intersection. The daughter insists that the light was green in her direction. The other motorist, perhaps telling the truth, perhaps trying to duck the blame, told the police that the light was green his way. The matter is now before the two insurance companies.

But my reader's daughter has just learned that her insurance company won't pay off unless she can produce witnesses who support her version of the accident. Since six weeks have passed, that's going to be difficult to arrange, although the daughter says she remembers several people getting out of cars to see if the accident victims were all right.

Even if there's no way to help my reader's daughter, let's all get a grip on the moral of this tale in case we witness accidents in the future. If you're a witness to a crash, let the police or the victims know before you leave the scene. After all, you may need a witness some day yourself.

What if Yuppies took over Nashville and the writing of country songs? The prospect is daunting, but the possibilities are endless. Here is yet another crop of Yuppie Country song titles submitted by readers with long imaginations:

"Sometimes I Feel Like a Wedge of Brie, Living in a Cheez-Whiz World" -- S. L. Anderson of Brunswick, Md.

"Your Daddy Used to Be My Man, But Now I'm in Love with Pierre Cardin" -- Brian Lingenfelter of Bethesda.

"She Took an Option on My Future, Then Sold Me Short" -- Peggy Morrissette from Brandywine.

"Your Personal Trainer Done Broke the Lifecycle of Our Love" -- Janet Rapmund, John Stasio and Terri Goren, of Bethesda and Northwest.

"Say Howdy to My Audi Next Time You See My Ex" -- Tex Whitehouse of Suitland.

"There's a Domestic Tear in My Imported Beer" -- Mike Duncan of Centreville.

"All My Labels Are Desinger, But All My Designs Are Labeled For You" -- Fran McCormick of Fairfax.

"Your Love Is Over-Leveraged, and I'm Callin' in My Loan" -- Helen Price of Northwest.

"His Guccis Are Dusty from Walkin' Over Me" -- Gwendolyn J. Dente of Arlington.

"Gonna Put My Trust in CDs Since I Lost My Faith in You" -- Kathy Henry of Alexandria.

"Honey, You're the Sprocket on My Ten-Speed" -- Bob Templeton of Arlington.

"Tired of Tofu and You" -- Bob Schall of Gaithersburg.

"My Olive Oil's Virgin But My Honey Sure Ain't" -- Eve Weisberg of Garrett Park.

"All She Ever Wanted From Me Was My Limited Edition Cherokee" -- Fay Ragland of Bethesda.

"Fax It to Me Gently" -- David and Laura Norod of Annandale.

"Ah Feel So Alone Since You Said Goodbye at the Tone" -- Helen M. Ford of Clarksburg, Md.

"Red Ties, White Silks, Blue Nun" -- Malcolm D. Wilson of Kensington.

"How Can I Miss You If You Won't Take Our 2.5 Children and Go Away?" -- Rich Urbont of Columbia.


Summer is here, but sufficient money isn't. Won't you help us send 1,100 underprivileged local kids to camp this summer? It's a way to make a difference. Many thanks in advance.


Make a check or money order payable to Send a Kid to Camp, and mail it to Bob Levey, The Washington Post, Washington, D.C., 20071.

In hand as of June 20: $91,324.09.

Our goal: $275,000.