Yesterday morning, going for a walk before dawn. Part of the route crosses a four-lane highway. Checked both ways of course and only saw one car’s headlights way off to the left. I’m used to judging distances there, and with plenty of time I sauntered on across. But then something was obviously different, and I heard the low wind-roar of a big car going fast and saw him coming up and he’s going to be here RIGHT NOW. I had to sprint to finish. I figure he was going 90+. From the distinctive taillight strip it was a Dodge Charger. With the car and the blithe disregard for speed limits, possibly law enforcement. Or maybe just someone enjoying the night for the same reason I was … a break from the binds of social contract…
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Phew. Glad you emerged unscathed.
I guess a lot of these must-run incidents demonstrate how close death can be in so many give moments.
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Being shouted at in a fast-food shop, and an angry, thuggish drunk taking offence to me, my presence, even my shoes, and lurching in close enough to reach me.
“I’ll tell you one thing about my shoes,” I said as my order fortuitously arrived on the counter.
“What!?” He snarled.
“I can fucking outrun you.” And I was gone.
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Over the years of dealing with my over emotional NY italian husband, I’ve learned to “run away” (my default mode) just a little less. Once, while driving an unfamiliar car early in the morning without the lights on, I stopped when a pedestrian starting yelling at me, so that I could hear what he was saying- “Turn your damn lights on!”
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