Flashes of Panic

When the alarm clock went off this morning, I could hear rain on the roof window. Not a good sign when you’re planning on riding to work because your foot aches so damn much. Two slaps of the “snooze” button later, I could tell it was tapering off. By the time I was dressed, fed and had lunch packed, it wasn’t raining anymore; in fact, I got out my sunglasses.

With the college students gone home for the summer, traffic is no longer an issue on my ride to work, just wet roads which left me with a fine layer of road grit all over by the time I got to work. As I was starting up the last long hill north of town, though, I saw a young girl and her father (apparently) standing beside the road. OK, I thought, they’re waiting for a school bus. Why’s she wearing a bike helmet? And why is her backpack nearly lying in the road?

As I got closer, I saw that her father was wearing a bike helmet, too. Then I saw that her “backpack” was a large, dead woodchuck (or similar animal.) Her father was explaining something to her, talking with his hands. I noticed the gestures for “running out in the road,” and “smack!” Their bike was one of those instant-tandem types where the child rides a sort of one-wheel “trailer” bolted on the main pipe of the adult’s bike. I’m still not sure why they stopped to examine the roadkill, but I’m curious.

Now playing: Only Teethin’ from Tellin’ Stories by The Charlatans