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I was walking down the street the other day looking for the office of a new client and I was having a little trouble finding it. I really didn’t know that end of town very well and so I was concentrating more on the numbers on the buildings than where I was going. As I turned the corner, hopeful I was headed in the right direction, I heard a loud clattering sound and looked up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a huge man on a bicycle careening down the sidewalk, arms and legs flailing. He was obviously unable to steer, let alone stop. Immediately realizing the danger, I dropped my briefcase and dove head first into the bushes next to me, narrowly escaping becoming the victim of an overweight hit-and-run cyclist. 

I popped out of the shrubbery, branches in my hair, and looked down the sidewalk. He was gone. 

What a jerk! What was he doing on the sidewalk with that bike! And anyway, what was he doing on a bicycle in the first place, when he clearly wasn’t able to ride one. He should be learning somewhere else. The nerve. He could have killed me! How unbelievably dangerous. What on earth did he think we have streets for. Sidewalks are for pedestrians, not bikes – especially not for out of control ones. What if an old lady had been in his way? She would have had no chance at all. Imagine. The gall of this guy.

And look at my clothes. I was a mess. My jacket was torn, my knees were scrubbed, my hands were dirty and I broke one of my heels off. Damn shoes were expensive too. I couldn’t possibly go to my appointment like this. I was really pissed off, and rightly so. The cyclist was clearly at fault. 

I pulled out my telephone, which probably was broken, although it looked okay and cancelled my appointment. I found my briefcase laying in the dirt next to the bushes. The leather was scratched and all my papers had fallen out. The laptop was probably ruined, but I decided to check that later. I gathered all my things, took the broken shoe off and limped back to my car.

What a jerk. 

——– 

I was walking down the street the other day looking for the office of a new client and I was having a little trouble finding it. I really didn’t know that end of town very well and so I was concentrating more on the numbers on the buildings than where I was going. As I turned the corner, hopeful I was headed in the right direction, I heard a loud clattering sound and looked up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a huge man on a bicycle careening down the sidewalk, arms and legs flailing. He was obviously unable to steer, let alone stop. Immediately realizing the danger, I dropped my  briefcase and dove head first into the bushes next to me, narrowly escaping becoming the victim of an overweight hit-and-run cyclist. 

I popped out of the shrubbery, branches in my hair, and looked down the sidewalk. He was gone. 

Wow. That guy could have killed me. I couldn’t believe it. My reactions were unbelievable. Imagine. I was in those bushes within a fraction of a second. Incredible.  And that with high heels on. Oops. Make that high heel – one of them didn’t survive. I broke the heel off of the other shoe so I could walk straight. Thank goodness I bought expensive shoes – they even looked good without heels.

I was impressed. My years of working with horses had definitely paid off; I could really get out of the way fast. I gave myself an emotional pat on the back. I’d like to see my son move like that. Downright elegant the way I dove into those shrubs. I brushed the dirt off my pants, pleased I had worn brown. Most people I know would have been flattened. They wouldn’t have had a chance. I snickered smugly and plucked the leaves from my hair. 

Feeling ever so athletic, I gathered all my scattered papers, shoved my laptop back into my briefcase and checked the address. Yep, this was the right building. Wasn’t even late. I wiped my hands on the lining of my jacket and rang the buzzer.

Look out world, here I come. 

———– 

Same bike. Same bush. Different meaning. Different day. 

Happy diving,
Lisa

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