Sunday, September 4, 2011

The TWO Fates

    Cade and I don't get out often.  Maybe that's evident in my posts,  but regardless, it's a fact.  We normally stay home with our four kids.  We play games and act silly.  It's just when we drive together that strange things happen.  

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    I don't want to freak you out, but fate is taking part in our lives.  Odd things are occurring, just like when Tom Cruise started his own religion!  You might think I'm nuts like him, but I'm just being logical again.  Really.
    The last four times Cade and I drove together we witnessed bike accidents.  Cade thinks it's a fluke, but I know better.  I feel like we're The Fates--except there's only two of us (we don't have nose hair) and we control bike accidents instead of lives.  
    When we drive together--Bikers Beware!!!

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    Sorry that I'm obsessed with The Fates.  They're just better than steak and ice cream.  

I almost peed my pants when I got to read about them in the Percy Jackson series.

    But back to the point, we have some serious power here.  Cade and I went on a date last night.  We drove slowly.  "I think all the bikers should be safe," I said.  "It's pretty late.  Anyone biking at this time is an idiot."
     
    Then the unthinkable happened; we saw one--AN IDIOT.  "Oh my gosh," I said.  "Cade don't drive by that man.  He'll wreck for sure."
    "Elisa." Cade laughed.  "People don't get in accidents just because we drive by them.  They get in accidents because they have an eighty IQ."
    "Fine.  But, do it for me . . . don't drive by that man."
    "I will drive by him!" Cade said, "Just to prove a point.  Wrecks don't happen because of us.  I mean, what are the odds of that man actually crashing?"
    I studied the biker with the reflectors on his wheels.  Maybe Cade was right.  A lamppost shone on the man.  He wore grape-smuggling biker shorts.  He looked professional enough.  I bet he'd even done one of those triathlon--things.
    Cade drove slowly behind the biker.  I felt a chill, and that's when it happened.  The man looked back and WHAM! he slammed into the curb and fell onto the grass.
    Cade gasped.  
    I felt the flush of guilt.  Is that how people in prison feel after they commit a crime?
    "What are the odds?" Cade asked.
    "Pretty high when you're us!  You need to help that man.  If you wouldn't have driven past him, he wouldn't have looked back.  You made him crash!  
    "I swear, Cade, I love driving with you, but my conscience can't handle this anymore.  We know what's going on.  We're responsible at this point.  Go help him."
    Cade didn't pull over.  I turned and the man stood, dusted himself off and seemed to be all right.  
    "Elisa, he looks like a professional.  I can't go ask to help.  I might as well kick him in the nuts.  Let the man keep his pride!"
    I stared blankly.  "Men are so barbaric.  You might as well just . . . kick him in the nuts?  You made the speedo-guy crash.  What more do you want?"
    A silence followed . . . but it was funny.  A smile crept onto my serious face.  I didn't want to give in, I really didn't, but Cade was so jovial, so handsome.  I know it's terrible, but Cade and I both started  laughing really hard then.  
    "Seriously though, Cade," I said.  "What are the odds?  Why are we witnessing so many bike accidents?"
   "Who knows.  I'll tell you one thing though.  We're not bad juju for bikers," he said.
    "Yeah, you're right," I said.  "It's probably because you're driving too close."
   "Here we go again.  You think I tailgate everyone."
    "Not everyone," I said.  "Just bikers.  I would have looked back too.  That poor man."