Confessions of a One-Track Mind

On the way to work yesterday, I noticed a young blonde woman walking along the side of US1 (which is a rather busy four-lane road, for those of you not familiar with it). I don't know if she was drunk, high or just FUCKING STUPID, but she walked INTO the road. Not fast, like she was trying to cross, but staggering in front of me. (Fortunately, I'd noticed her beforehand and was able to jump on the brakes.) The close call damn near gave me a heart attack. I *think* she made it across to the median, but jeepers fuck, I had adrenelin coming out of my ears for the next five miles.

Of course, by the time I got to Aurora Rd, I was wondering what the story was. There was no one else around; she wasn't pushed or fleeing from anyone. She wasn't chasing a pet or a vital document. Escaped from kidnappers and still drugged up? Suicidal from a bad break-up and lost her nerve? Lost her glasses and half blind without them? Lousy sense of self-preservation? Yikes.

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Cars du jour: An old Corvette (circa 1965). Dark green, beautiful condition. Sweet. Also, two more BMW Z3s, one an attractive hunter-teal, the other a nice bronze-brown. Shiny!