Dead Possum

Thoughts while riding to the store…

I’m just saying that when you see a dead possum on the side of the road, maybe even have to steer around it a bit to keep from thumping over the deceased marsupial, it is a fair guess that the possum was too slow to escape the car that hit it. That may be a wrong assessment of the clues; smashed possum in the road and tire marks across and beyond the carcass, but it is not in error by much because whatever the “real” reason for the demise of the pouched beast, the outcome is the same: flat or not so flat nocturnal semi-arboreal omnivore with or without car tire track across it. A neutral observer might watch the possum crossing the street and when the head lights of the oncoming car sweep across it as it is scurrying across the dark pavement, a long dark shadow is laid down behind the hind haunches and the possum may just “play possum” in the road, falling down pretending to be dead. Then… it is dead when the car thumps over its pretending to be dead body causing it’s actual untimely end. Was that prescience of the possum to foresee his/her own demise beneath the wheels of the urban vehicle and it just lay down to assume the position? Was it an error in the fur ball’s threat assessment process? Was the possum just to slow to live? Regardless, the pouched predator, did not have to be in the road, and most likely could have chosen to leave and would have made it if it had been fleet of foot and fast with its brain. But the opossum doesn’t make it across the road before the car hits and kills it as evidenced by the remains alongside or even in the road: a testament to something maybe even spiritual. Too slow to live at least on a busy road at night.

Like seeing a dead possum and thinking, “not quick enough,” I see with my review mirror blue hair at the top of the steering wheel as the only hint of life inside the giant land yacht approaching me from behind and I also have an instant thought. I assume a particular scenario which may or may not be entirely true and correct, but ultimately it has served me well from joining the road crossing dead possum. Perhaps an elderly matron with the prestigious car her deceased husband bought 20 years ago which is now only driven to and from the hair dresser down the street because her license has not been renewed due to poor eye sight, poor reflex time, poor processing speed, flights of fantasies, tunnel vision or all the above. Move over and hope for the best. Not a time to insist on taking the lane.

Thirty something woman with a cell phone held to her ear driving a mini-van somewhere near or over the center line of the lane with what appears to be a bunch of people/kids packed in the two back seats. Now that conjures up a scenario of what has and is going on inside the vehicle and the lack of attention to the other traffic on the road and even the road and driving itself. I ride with caution expecting the unexpected.

Shiny brand new pickup truck sitting high on the frame, with fancy rims, big mud tires, spot lights and just maybe a gun rack in the rear window with or without guns. Junker car with terminal cancer surrounded in a blue cloud coming from the engine and beneath the car which can be smelled before hearing the rattling and roaring as it approaches from behind. La Bomba chebby with the woofers thumping out a beat that shakes the vehicle visibly, tinted windows all the way around, blue lights in the wheel wells, sitting low to the ground driving too slow for conditions. An RV with all the bells and whistles, an old guy with a plaid shirt and short pants behind the wheel like the captain of a ship commanding from the bridge. There are a lot of these indicators of a potential dead possumness for a cyclist. Fill in a story that surrounds the vehicle and act accordingly to be safe. Or end up like the possum assuming he/she can outwit a car that doesn’t even see it playing possum in the road or is just running a bit too slowly.

There are some things that I think about when situations present themselves that have served me well and kept me on the road regardless of the truth of what I am thinking. Is that being prejudice or being vigilant? Is that making a judgment or being judgmental? Just sayin’ that a blue haired in a land yacht has never revved its engine, honked, passed me extra close, stuck the middle finger out the window and yelled, “get on the sidewalk ass hole!”, but she has nearly run over me without knowing it. A new pickup truck with huge mud tires has not followed me at ten miles an hour up a hill for a mile and finally swerved into the other lane passing me almost and swerved back before actually getting past me leaving the other twelve cars behind it fuming at me for slowing them down. Now a junker has passed me, dropped a large chunk of a muffler that had to be bunny hopped over and I know I could smell it before it passed me safely before the muffler thing happened so I am ready for that. La Bomba chebby with the tinted window, I just want to say not in Detroit thank god.

The possum is dead and dead by car. Whether it was struck and killed in a fair race across the road, or the car swerved to hit it unfairly or the thing just lay down and took it on the chops because it was stupid, dead is dead. Some judgments just need to be made for life as a cyclist.