Remember how they used to tell us that every cigarette we smoked would cut hours off our lives and that when we quit we could save all those weeks, months, maybe even years for our life expectancy? Well I had to give back a few of those weeks tonight.

I was cruising out of the cul-de-sac, a stretch of residential two lane that I usually execute with a fair amount of gusto, but tonight the temps were near eighty, there was a very light movement of Kansas air and I was just easing along basking in the warmth of my glow over being able to catch a little breeze. As I approached the traffic signaled intersection that marks the entrance into the real world a little white car darted up from the main thoroughfare and leaned over the center line into a left turn right across my path. I reached up and grabbed a handful of brake (thank you, Mr. Honda for the dual disks on the front) putting the Dragon sharply on her nose and the driver put all four of her car tires into a full skid. We came to rest, a strange word to describe the state of either of the human participants in this momentary drama, a very short distance from one another. Our eyes locked. Her mouth was moving but I couldn’t make out the words that escaped her lips. It is my belief that she wasn’t certain what I had to say either. I did use the term, “lady”. The adjectives and the interrogative shall remain my own personal knowledge. I am quite certain that I would have wet my trousers but that all the equipment necessary for that act had been suddenly relocated into my lower torso. I allowed myself just a few breaths to bring my heart rate back down into triple digits and then, with a short glare of farewell, resumed our journey down the slope and around the corner.

I was very pleased that I didn’t let a stranger see me weep and that this time I didn’t scream like a little girl. I rubbed the seat down vigorously some twenty minutes later when I arrived at my destination. I don’t think there’s going to be any permanent damage.

I know that we’ve been told that no one really intends to hit us, but doesn’t it sometimes seem that they do?

They’re not really aiming for you. That’s the good news. Their aim is really deplorable and it’s unpredictable. That’s the bad news.

You all be safe and keep the sticky side on the road.