Today I heard the
Song of the Sausage Creature as it reared its scabby head and howled its baleful howl, and for one awful instant (and only in
retrospect)
I thought it was all over.
My normal ride to school was just that, normal. Until I glanced to the side heading South on I-25, and when I looked forward again I was inches from chewing on the bumper of a Dodge pickup truck.
Thank god I just put new brake pads on my Honda Hawk, because I clamped down on the front brake in a full-on panic stop. For that one awful instant I thought it was too late. . .
Then, psychometric millimeters from the tailgate of Bubba, the miracle that is thermodynamics riding on the soul train of friction ferried the kinetic energy of my howling carcass and its conveyance into harmless heat radiating merrily off the brake disk.
Nothing like a jolt of pure terror to get you started in the morning. Screw caffeine, I want adrenaline. Bad craziness. Helluva way to contribute to the heat death of the universe, though.