I pedal
I pedal a lot
I pedal in the wee hours
of the morning
And during the course of
almost 5 years, and over 12,000 miles of pedaling the same 10 mile course, I’ve
“run into” some pretty strange scenarios; all within a hundred feet of a nearby
intersection.
A woman standing next to
the highway, in the shrubbery of a bank, holding a small terrier, and singing
the most eerie tune that’s ever been sung. (Needless to say, I keep pedaling).
Speaking of four-footed
beasts of the canine variety, a miniature, emaciated Doberman tied to a lamppost
next to the highway. It goes without saying, I cannot leave her there, but take
her home, feed her, and quickly dispatch the precious pooch to a no-kill
shelter.
A young man with a cane
standing at the busy intersection. Approaching him he asks if I can direct him
to a particular part of town. Johnny (for that is his name) tells me that he
has been walking for five (5) hours; having been released earlier that evening
from the county jail.
Making a calculated
decision I suggest he keep walking. I will finish pedaling home, retrieve my
car, and drive him the remaining couple of miles to his home. (That I am
writing this story and have suffered no harm or alarm speaks for itself).
And then tonight''
Perhaps the most bizarre
scenario of all.
Pt. 2
I have just crossed over
one of several four lane highways which exist on my measured pathway, and
mounted the next sidewalk; for I only pedal on sidewalks. Safer, don’t ya know?
(Ironic, I suppose, given this strange series of stories).
I hear it before I see
it. Some muted, unidentified protestations. I turn my gaze in a diagonal
direction. And oddly enough, as it seems now, on the exact same corner where I
encountered ‘Jailhouse Johnny’ are a large black SUV, and a late model
semi-truck cab. Parked at a traffic light, I notice the driver of the SUV is
standing just behind his vehicle, while the driver of the larger truck is
engaged in a struggle with what appears to be an adult female.
I think none of us know
exactly how we will respond to a seeming emergency until it “drops from the
sky” and figuratively exclaims, “Here I am.” Oh, we can imagine what we’d do,
but “the proof is (definitely) in the pudding.”
I do not hesitate
It occurred to me at that
moment that I was willing to do whatever I had to do to rescue the apparent
“damsel in distress.” At the moment, at least, I had no consideration whatever
of the presence of firearms, or taking on two ‘bad boys’ at a time, (or the
fact that I am approaching 70 years of age).
I immediately begin
peddling my speedy (well, not so much) bike towards what appears to be the
scene of a crime. As I pedal I attempt to “get the mark” of the situation
unraveling before me. It seems a woman is being dragged into the driver’s side
of the cab, as if the offender intends to take her against her will.
Twenty feet from the
truck now, and the young (or not so much) lady is being pulled (or clamoring)
over the legs of the driver and into a jump or bench seat to his right.
Pt. 3
Ten feet from my goal
now, and the driver’s door slams shut. I peer into the poorly lit cab and it
seems the driver and potential detainee are still, and awaiting the decision of
the other vehicle. The man walks to the driver’s side of his car, gets in,
makes a 90 degree turn, and the semi-cab follows suite. I watch the two
vehicles as they accelerate, and eventually disappear out of sight.
As ‘Mrs. Fairfax’ (re.
the novel, ‘Jane Eyre’) was heard to say,
“What to do? What to
do?"
I reach into my pocket
and consider the possibility of dialing 911. And yet. Wasn’t the woman ‘cool,
calm and collected’ as the door slammed shut in my face? And didn’t the driver
of the other vehicle casually stroll to his car, as though nothing was amiss?
I consider an alternative
possibility
Perhaps the three
individuals knew one another. Perhaps the driver of the first vehicle stopped
at the light to allow the woman to ride in the second. Perhaps she and the
pilot of the second were a bit ‘tanked’ and simply engaging in some raucous
revelry. And rather than using the passenger door, she chose to enroll herself
in the cab the hard way.
I delay. I debate. I
deliberate. (All those ‘D’ words).
I desist
Approximately three
minutes elapse and I hear it before I see it.
(Rather familiar, don’t
you think)?
A sheriff’s department
cruiser comes sailing down the highway at break-neck speed, its red and blue
lights flashing, and its siren screaming.
I can only surmise,
having witnessed the unusual scenario unfolding before him or her, a witness
retrieved his or her phone and made the call.
Pt. 4
My brother is, himself, a
long haul truck driver, and I often give him a ring as he is on his way to
Miami and I am completing my ‘O-dark-thirty’ trek. This morning my routine was
the same, though the story I shared with him was anything but routine.
Wayne, being a man of few
words, generally allows me to do most of the talking. However, having heard my
fateful tale, he responded with,
“Maybe you should ride in
the daylight, rather than the dark!”
I responded with,
“Very wise advice. Maybe
you’re right!”
There’s a scene in the
movie, “The Karate Kid” in which ‘Daniel-son’ interacts with an Okinawan bully.
Our hero speaks.
“Hey man. I’m not looking
for trouble!”
To which the local thug
responds,
“Maybe twouble lookin’
for you!”
I can relate
As a freshman in high
school I learned an old Irish prayer. It seems rather fitting here:
"From ghoulies, and
ghosties, and long-legged beasties, and things that go bump in the night, Good
Lord, deliver us."
Perhaps, however, the latest event to which I was exposed
at that intersection “broke the curse.”
Afterward
This time around, I happened to be in my car, and had
pulled up at the red light. As I sat gazing across the intersection a couple of
late model vehicles came to a halt.
Suddenly, a man jumped out of the driver’s seat of one
car, and a woman bailed out of the driver’s seat of the other automobile. Walking
quickly towards one another, they embraced and kissed; passionately, I might
say.
And, as quickly as they had exited their respective
transports, they reassumed their respective places behind their respective
steering wheels, the light turned green, they proceeded across the intersection
in my direction, and continued on their merry way down the road.
I can only wonder whether what transpired was that
couple’s version of a premeditated stunt, or whether one or the other of them
was leaving the country for an extended visit overseas, or for that matter
whether they never expected to see one another again.
I suppose I will be left wondering what I had seen
transpire before me that day.
I suppose I will remain perplexed about the strange
events which I have shared with you today.
By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 75. Copyright pending
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