Speeding...

I had a long day at the local high school.  Getting home was my top priority.  Little did I know that my typical drive back to food and shelter would lead into a brush with life and death.

To get home, I turn onto Old Mission Road, south of Mount Pleasant proper.  Deerfield Road, a notorious hotspot for off-campus, collegiate housing, intersects with Old Mission at the bottom of a small, well-paved hill.  I ordinarily slow down around here, because people like to fiddle with their radios or put on their sunglasses instead of pay attention to the road.

Today, I almost ran into a big problem.  Coming down the hill at about the speed limit, a shoddy white car decides to just throw caution to the wind and pull out in front of me.  Either impaired or just stupid, the driver then realizes that, amazingly, there's an shiny pick-up truck about to run into my door.  

I slam on my breaks and turn.  I want to avoid hitting him dead on.  The other car sits flatly in the intersection.  Vehicles around me remain as still as gravestones.  I see smoke spew forth for my hot, rubber tires, as I come to a halting, jerking stop.

Slowly, the other driver turns past me.  With my window down, I yell to heaven about this close call with death.  Never once did he look me in the eye.  He drove on, I hope, thankful for his life.

Now, at home, breathing, hungry, and overwrought, I can't wait to get out of this town and start walking to classes again this fall.