It was 10:06 a.m. The birds were singing. It was sunny. Almost unbearably hot. My wife and I were out for a morning stroll.
We were keeping to the side of the road, chatting, laughing, working up a moderate sweat. My wife walks a lot faster than me. She was telling a story. She was talking with her hands. My wife always talks with her hands.
I was cackling. We were having a great time. There’s nothing like a morning walk.
A blue Ford SUV came flying up the road. We could see it in the distance. I could hear the 1.0-liter 3-cylinder engine howling like a bat out of You Know Where. The vehicle was heading toward us.
I was thinking, “Surely this car will slow down. Surely the driver sees us.”
I guided my wife to the shoulder. Only, the car wasn’t merely passing. It was coming straight at us like a dive bomber. We might as well have had bullseyes drawn on our chests.
“Get out of the way!” I shouted to my
wife. It was all I could think to do.
My wife froze before jolting into action and trying to get out of the way. She was nearly too late.
The Ford slammed its brakes and squealed. The grille of the SUV stopped only inches from my wife.
The birds were still singing.
The Ford sat idling. I could see the lady driver behind the windshield. The woman still didn’t realize anything was wrong. She was too busy reading a text message.
The driver was a young, professional-looking woman, mid-thirties, blonde hair, nice earrings. She didn’t even make eye contact with us, she never even put the phone down. She gunned her engine and sped away kicking up a rooster tail of grit behind her.
I immediately became sick. I doubled over and almost vomited. My wife was white as milk toast.