please don't kill me

Such is the phrase running through my head as I ride my bike down busy streets. I don't have too many fears, but one fear creeps up as I see cars rolling through their red lights to turn right--possibly right in front of me.

I fear getting struck by the car, flying through the air, scraping up my arms and legs with some nasty road rash, and hitting my head hard enough against the asphalt to pop off my helmet.

I know. Not a very pleasant image. That's why I incessantly repeat my mantra along busy roads. Please don't kill me. I will cars to see me and my speed, so they'll back off and come to their complete stop to wait for me to pass them by.

It's my green light.

I said please.

Thanks.