Begging, pleading, and daring.

It's almost nine o'clock in the morning. It was almost sunny too.

I had just rounded the corner and started walking down Cumberland St. on my way to work. January in northern California is just a few months of mostly cloudy with a chance of rain; it's a poor man's winter. It was still polarizing to see the palm trees carelessly sway in the wind on a background of gray.

My batteries ran out, dammit. I took the headphones off my ears and slipped them into the large front pocket of my green windbreaker where my now dead cd player stayed. I was never a big fan of walking, but at least the music made it more interesting. Mel, the tiny turtle in the plastic bin, rocked back and forth in my hand as I strode toward the entranceway to the housing complex where I worked. At least it wasn't raining.

I came to the entranceway and turned the corner, stepping up onto the tall curb. I looked down at Mel who was hanging out on the rocks, enjoying the fresh air. He often kept me company in the garage while I worked, moseying around on the rocks and playfully paddling through the water on the other end of his world.

The sudden screeching around the corner startled me, but only for a second. This was a decent sized housing complex, and I gave no attention to frantic or reckless driving; this is California you know. The car barely made it around the corner, nearly clipping the 6 foot wide curbed divider that separated the exit driveway from the entrance driveway. That, was close. The engine roared as the driver pulled the car straight.

It didn't stay straight for long.

The car unexpectedly turned left, right into the divider; over the divider I should say, nearly hitting the palm trees it went between. The front of the low slung, black sports car barely made it over that curb around the divider. It's speed made sure the middle and black had no problem as it barreled over the large divider, landing in the wrong lane. I didn't hesitate to stop walking.

It didn't stay in the wrong lane for long.

Bouncing into the lane, it kept going, up and onto the curb on which I was now paralyzed, standing in slow motion. The power thirsty engine surged again as the driver behind black tinted glass threw the pedal down under the weight of a thoughtless foot. The hideaway lights, tucked away during the daytime, completed a faceless car cloaked in black.

Mel happily wandered around his rocky terrain, enjoying the stillness after a few miles of walking. I can still hear the engine. Barely 30 feet away, the car never wavered from it's straight and narrow path. I leapt to my left with all my strength, landing on the entraceway pavement, just a step away from the divider. I heard the tires come off the curb as I ran with abandonment over the divider, and up the exit road.

I can't tell you which way the car went or if it ever turned around for a second chance. All I could hear was the heavy pounding of my boots on the pavement; not exactly choice running shoes. There were only two things I thought as I ran past the small park and down the street to my version of safety.

1. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit...

2. Try to keep the box steady so Mel doesn't get hurt.

Hours went by as I ran a few minutes to the house I worked in. I ran inside and straight to an office where Curtis and my brother were. I set Mel down on the desk, completely out of breath and mostly out of my mind. They turned to me with confusion penned all over their faces. Through my heavy and frantic breaths, I managed to get this out: "I...just...a...car...tried to...run...me...over...I...almost...got...hit." I sat down in the chair they pulled up for me and tried to get my wits back. Mel aimlessly cruised around the water, enjoying his placid "lake" after bouncing around in the earthquake.

A couple hours later, I cautiously walked back to the entranceway to see the several markings of the black car. Dirt tracks just inches away from a palm tree; tire marks all over the side of the curb. I took pictures of everything, hoping one day to tell others of my daring escape from death; yet knowing I'd remind myself of how lucky I was.

You hear all the time how right before death, your life flashes before you. It doesn't. Your life doesn't flash before you, teasing you with everything you've done and threatening an end to doing anything again. Your life dangles before you, begging you to reach out and take it, pleading with you to cherish it, and daring you to live it.

-- The D

(Yes, this is a 100% true story)