Is anyone safe, ever, from anything?

I knew a woman in her sixties who had killed someone ten or fifteen years earlier. She had driven up over a hill and a little boy darted out on his bike. Rising up over a hill is exactly like rounding a bend in the road, as far as visibility is concerned. Everyone involved agreed that it was completely not her fault. But it didn’t matter. She still felt like she’d killed someone. She said not a day went by that she didn’t think about it.

OK, there’s something I haven’t told you guys: I almost slaughtered a bicyclist the other night – with my car. When I say “almost” I do not mean, fortunately, that I only partially wiped somebody out. I mean that I missed clobbering him/her by about two feet.

I need to figure out what went wrong. At this point I honestly don’t know whether it was my fault or theirs. Lindi and I are going back over there to re-enact the scene. Actually, that's what we were going to do but neither one of us wanted to play the role of the cyclist, so we’ve got an alternate plan. We’ll go back to the scene and reconstruct the event in our imagination.

I’ll report back with our findings.