Discrimination is a tricky thing.

Sure there are blatant forms of prejudice that we see from time to time. A politician makes a racist remark, a woman executive is paid less than her colleagues or a voter is required to pay a poll tax. All of them evil, these forms of discrimination are somewhat obvious.

But what about the more sinister forms? Like the gas carbon monoxide, this variety is barely detectable lurking around us but just as deadly.

Take the automobile, for example.

The first car that I can remember from my childhood was a long station wagon with faux wood exterior.

It was the 70s and the “woodie” was all the rage.

There were five people in our family. Mom and dad sat up front, while my brother, sister and I piled into the back.

Way before seat belt laws, my brother and I constantly bickered over who would get to sit in the very back of the car.

The flat bed was made of shiny black metal that quickly conducted the hot Alabama summer sun. Even so, it was the best seat in the car — less confining than the bench seats up front.

And that spot was ideal during the annual summer vacation trip. Lying between the family luggage, curled up in a sleeping bag was almost like being in another world far away from the rest of the family.

My family was a part of the great American dream. Neighborhoods were springing up all over and there was a station wagon in every driveway.

In my childhood I can’t remember one friend whose family did not have a car.

We were in the middle class and everyone that we played with was in the same boat.

Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?

Looking back, I realize that not everyone was in the same boat and not everyone had access to a car in my small Alabama town.

I thought of this while standing on a median in the middle of Carter Street in Vidalia, taking pictures of rush hour traffic.

I stood there for nearly 30 minutes, Monday afternoon and what I witnessed simply amazed me.

As the sky grew dark over that half-hour, I counted a total of six instances when a person or group of people darted across as drivers cruised down Carter Street. Of those six, two were white and four were black.

On a couple of occasions, cars narrowly missed other cars, much less pedestrians. In fact, one of the photos that ran of a bicyclist pedaling across the street showed a near collision in the background.

Since the dawn of automobile age, there has been a constant struggle between those who have cars and those who don’t.

The neighborhood I grew up in had sidewalks. As the bottom line has become increasingly important, such “luxuries” have been omitted from recent city and suburban planning.

Mothers are now left to roll baby strollers in the street.

As more and more highways and neighborhoods are being built without sidewalks and crosswalks, the poor are being forced to risk their lives as the rich drive in luxury.

In the past two weeks, two people have died trying to cross Carter Street.

As city officials have pointed out, traffic flow on the major thoroughfare has increased greatly.

Because there are no sidewalks, pedestrians are forced to walk along the shoulder of the road.

There are no crosswalks at intersections. The poor are left to adapt.

Don’t get me wrong. This is not just a Vidalia problem.

Look at Natchez and almost any major town in the country and you see similar situations.

Is it discrimination?

I think so.

Are there solutions to help erase such prejudice?

Yes, they are called sidewalks and crosswalks.

Ben Hillyer is the web editor of The Natchez Democrat. He can be reached at 601-445-3552 or ben.hillyer@natchezdemocrat.com.