Timing escapes Death

The poets around here don't write nothing at all, they just stand by and let it all be...the Boss

The J took this snap of me at a Friday evening wine taste gathering at the Cool & Cool this past fall.
The following text was written by me with a clear mind late last night. I truly hope that you can take something from my account of a work story that by attachment to observance defines the word not word 'synchro'(sing crow) that I often use as a descriptive even though in proper context it could be applied as a verb.

What I am about to describe to you really happened yesterday morning and as I sit here reflecting on my day I just realized that maybe she is thinking about what happened right now. Who is she, you ask? The dark headed girl in the purple sweater, black blazer over, longish gray wool skirt, tall boots, leather bag the color of a banana over her left shoulder and a white IPod connected to her ears by a white cord in her right hand. I was early getting back to the Uptoon from deep south as I approached the Jar proper after rolling over the John Belk not freeway. Flying two steel triangles inside of two revolutions on two not three dimensions the geometry combined with physics makes it easy to sit up hands free with legs pumping as pistons and ass in the saddle the only connection to the road on by the new Duke Energy contracted sky scraper shiny on the left. Still hands free at the Disco Chicken(image to be showcased soon) but back in 5 point contact cockpit with hand control as I rode through a green Martin Luther King crossing, formally known in the ole school as 2nd Street.

0952hrs:
The next block up at 3rd had been red as I rolled up, stopped and held steady with a left foot front track stand with the bars turned slightly left facing one way two and three cross traffic racing right for their exodus down the hill away from the glitz. My Eritrean friend is setting up his New York style polished hot dog cart when I look over to the corner on the right across 3rd still front tire pointed left and holding steady. Dozens of folks are milling about as the sparse but lethally fast auto vipers race across Tryon right in front of me independently of each other without realizing their connection. I'm in front and I can see the entire intersection when I see the car first, it is an old worn out Carolina blue four door sedan made I'm pretty sure by Chrysler being driven by a very dark person fast and softy loud to the floor in the left lane of 3rd against the curb by Jimmy John's. He was the last car coming for Tryon, it was quiet, there were no others.

Focusing on that but pulling back here comes the girl into my visual cortex that stands out in the crowd as the only human in pursuit angle walking unknowingly and separated on orange for direct contact with the on coming Chrysler destined to make the light. When I put that together in a flash of a second that she was blinded by the driver and he was from her by the huge marble facade covering an ugly cement stanchion at the edge of the inside corner adrenalin instantly rushed through my body and mind. (note: All of us watched this piece of infrastructure go in, it is the most dangerous intersection on Tryon and in the Uptoon's top three.) Dignified marginalized girl separated by audio deprivation and theatrical marble plates glued to solid cement holding up the high rise is about to be killed by stepping out into 3rd in the immediate path of oncoming light blue worn out Chrysler maybe just above 50mph and accelerating on the now orange.

Can I take any more without reacting, obviously not. My cortex still functioning sent the instant message to my hippocampus that this was not a joke and that this is one of those one 1/1000ths of a second in the passing of time that without reaction will cause inevitable failure in the human spirit. I came off the bike and screamed at once. Without control I yelled as if my own life depended on it. I do believe it came out as an elongated, "Nooooo", followed by or combined with in the same deep breath as a guttural scream, "Looooooook".

She turned for me, the source of vibration over her IToons but had already stepped her left foot onto 3rd and the car was less than three meters and closing fast from behind the view of the marble. This beautiful girl in form and light saw my energy response caddy corner across the street completely cracked and did not take another step as the car whizzed by her less than a foot blowing an eddy of tail wind through her dark brown locks. Timing. She did not get hit as I had pictured on the movie screen in my mind not 2 seconds prior. The impact launching her across Tryon and out of her bloody broken body ripped clothing and eyes dying as I held her head watching her final transfer. When the car was over Tryon she continued the march towards her destiny one shade more pale and never looked for my eyes again.

However, everyone else seemed to be staring at me. My Eritrean friend was frozen in time holding an umbrella that he was trying to put in place just as this went down. He gave me the recognition of a transfer in his eye contact and body language. I jumped back on my bike across green and murmured to myself, "Dammit." Without consideration of anything less than timing I know right now that I saw something more than once today and it is all very real.