h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Monday, June 05, 2000
Norfolk, Virginia

I am driving north down Colley Avenue, my mind wandering. I'm on my way home after going to a meeting at the right time but a day early. I have stopped at the store to pick up three dozen clams for a dinner appetizer; and, giving up on locating the plunger with which to unstop the toilet, a new routine that accompanies my daughte's custodial visits, I've purchased one for $3.79 at Colonial Hardware. Everything--the sky, the street, the buildings--are a uniform gray and the street is slightly damp. I am not going too much over the 35 mph speed limit.

Out of the corner of my eye from the right, a motion. Instantaneously all of my attention is focused on the space my car is to occupy second by next split second. An older black gentleman on a bicycle set on crossing the street has pedaled slowly from between two parked cars. His full attention is now focused on my car and his eyes register alarm and resignation. His jaw has already set for the beating he knows will surely follow. He, too, is gray.

My foot goes to full press on the brake pedal even as years of driving tells me that I am far too late, the bicycle and the man will impact my nearly unblemished Acura coup at the right headlight. There is no place to swerve right or left. All I can do is push on the brake pedal and push some more. The odd vibration of the pedal against my right foot signals that the anti-lock disk brakes are in full function. In an instant the entire contents of my car--the clams, the plunger, a cell phone and planner, cigarettes, lighter, a half-full mug of coffee and the blue paper mache iguana from the back window ledge--are flung forward and compress in the passenger-side footspace.

On the street the bicycle rider has already reacted to the force of the coming blow and he falls away from the direction my car is coming. His bike tumbles to the street, but he catches himself and remains on his feet in a half crouch cowering against the blow.

The blow does not come. My car comes to a stop. The slight chirp of tire against pavement is now silent as is the clattering from the landing of the inertial--driven contents of the car. In the span of time it takes to check my rear--view mirror and verify that I will not be hit from behind, I am breathing heavily and my pulse is racing, ready for action that will not now be needed. The old man continues his crouch astride the fallen bicycle, frozen like a statue, still ready to take his punishment.

He turns and our eyes meet. Everything in my view is a dull, muted gray except for the old man's eyes. Everything around us is motionless, frozen in that one split second. His right hand comes up in salute on an otherwise expressionless face and he drags his bicycle back between the park cars. I drive on.