Sometimes staying alive is a matter of timing. At least that was my experience this past week while cycling in the Pratt area. If I had arrived anywhere from a few to 30 or so seconds earlier at a specific location, I might be writing this blog from a hospital bed instead—or not writing it at all.
On Monday, I watched as a young woman in a dark blue vehicle plowed through the intersection at Second and Rochester a few seconds before I arrived on my bike. I hollered at her, “Watch where you’re going,” and then pulled over to call the Pratt PD after I committed her license plate number to short-term memory. Who knows what happened after that. I never heard back from anyone, although I provided my name and telephone number and said I wanted to file a report on reckless driving.
Twice today, Wednesday, I missed an opportunity to meet my maker, thankfully. Pulling into work this morning at the strip mall east of the Servateria, I watched as a man in a pickup truck, oblivious to my presence, pulled out where I normally turn. I took the next entrance, waving vigorously so the driver recognized that he had nearly creamed a man on a bicycle.
The third instance was truly a matter of good timing. As I was headed north on 281 on my recumbent, I watched as a four-wheeler in the back of a pickup truck that had passed me less than a minute earlier suddenly flew out the back and took off out into the middle of a field, driverless. Obviously, someone was in too big of a hurry to tie down their four-wheeler.
I guess that I really should be grateful that I’m still alive this week, which I am. It must not be my time to go. Thus far, my timing has been good enough to keep staying alive.