Real Life Road Kill
I asked Metro how to pick out a wine for a friend who had been accepted into the Fire Academy, and he graciously agreed to take me out and show me how to pick a good wine. When I got to his apartment, we loaded into his car and headed out to HEB, purveyor of all the finer vintages.
En route to the store, Metro pointed out a PT Cruiser, at the time thought to be a rare, limited edition vehicle. I looked away from the road to see the car and Metro must have also, because next I looked at the road, he swerved the car with one hand, reached across the car to keep me in my seat with the other, and slammed his foot on the break.
In the middle of the road, transfixed by the headlights, stood a white dog. The dog never tried to run out of the way, and Metro's reflexes were too slow to avoid the inevitable. I yelled in horror as Metro's company car ran the dog over. And over. For there are two sets of wheels on any car.
I turned around to stare out the window, hoping we'd only grazed the dog, but he lay in the middle of the road. "We have to go back. He'll get hit again," I told him, knowing full well my friend Dana would have pulled over and moved the animal, and would be most disapproving of this hit-and-run venture.
"He's injured. It'd be too dangerous to move him," he answered as he continued on in search of wine.
When we arrived at HEB, I was still shaking, but Metro sauntered off to the entrance as if he hadn't a care in the world. I hung back inspecting the car for damage. Metro had an executive position with his company and was provided a vehicle. This company car was his only transportation and I knew he'd be in trouble for the accident.
He looked back when he realized I wasn't with him, and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Checking out the car; looking for damage, blood and stuff." I found no visible evidence of our canine encounter.
"Don't worry about it. It's not my car. If it's dirty, I'll have it cleaned at work. If it's damaged, I can always just get another car from the lot."
I also found no evidence of Metro's soul.
En route to the store, Metro pointed out a PT Cruiser, at the time thought to be a rare, limited edition vehicle. I looked away from the road to see the car and Metro must have also, because next I looked at the road, he swerved the car with one hand, reached across the car to keep me in my seat with the other, and slammed his foot on the break.
In the middle of the road, transfixed by the headlights, stood a white dog. The dog never tried to run out of the way, and Metro's reflexes were too slow to avoid the inevitable. I yelled in horror as Metro's company car ran the dog over. And over. For there are two sets of wheels on any car.
I turned around to stare out the window, hoping we'd only grazed the dog, but he lay in the middle of the road. "We have to go back. He'll get hit again," I told him, knowing full well my friend Dana would have pulled over and moved the animal, and would be most disapproving of this hit-and-run venture.
"He's injured. It'd be too dangerous to move him," he answered as he continued on in search of wine.
When we arrived at HEB, I was still shaking, but Metro sauntered off to the entrance as if he hadn't a care in the world. I hung back inspecting the car for damage. Metro had an executive position with his company and was provided a vehicle. This company car was his only transportation and I knew he'd be in trouble for the accident.
He looked back when he realized I wasn't with him, and asked, "What are you doing?"
"Checking out the car; looking for damage, blood and stuff." I found no visible evidence of our canine encounter.
"Don't worry about it. It's not my car. If it's dirty, I'll have it cleaned at work. If it's damaged, I can always just get another car from the lot."
I also found no evidence of Metro's soul.
posted by TrisaTx at
9:21 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home