I was driving to work this morning and there was this guy came fishtailing out of a sideroad onto the highway. It was this old Ford, one of the old square ones. He (and I assume it was a ‘he’, but it may have been a ‘she’) put too much oomph into powering through the slight change of direction from the sideroad onto the highway, and the Falcon’s tail started sliding out. The driver seemed to enjoy this effect, judging by how he continued it for sometime, all the while getting larger and larger in my rear vision mirror.
I was so busy monitoring his sideways hijinks and contemplating their consequences for me, that I was distracted from the traffik in front of my own car. When I’d focused my tunnelvision back onto the car next in line from me to the City, I saw that it was very much stationary. I clutched and hit the brakes.
The thump that came alarmingly from behind was only my Melways hitting the back floor, having slid off the rear seat. I’d stopped in plenty of time, and without major incident, but my car did nosedive somewhat in the process.
I looked at the stationary tradesman’s vehicle before me, the one that I’d avoided missing. Sticking out the back of it like a lance, wrapped in a warning pink t-shirt, was a pair of steel beams.
Had I not stopped, the steel beams would have gone right through my face.
The dancing Falcon continued on up the road, as if nothing had happened.