Ronny went home, fixed another litter box for Rocky, adding two more bowls of cat chow, topping them up. He left a bowl of water, flushed the toilet and left the seat up. He wrapped a novel for his brother, chocolates from the dollars store, extra dry gloves, bottled water, trail mix, and an emergency kit into his knapsack. He added a groundsheet and a flannel throw, while he had never used it, he was realistic.
He tested his bike lights as he pulled on his down filled jacket. It was almost dusk when he set out on that sabbath evening, all the crows screeching across the fields, coming home to roost.
Traffic was light, but it had just started to snow. He peddled hard and fast, thinking of the roast beef dinner Bob’s wife had promised. He knew their black dog Lucky would be running to the screen door every two minutes watching for him.
Dan the trucker had pulled into a motel about noon , took a hot shower, and slept till his alarm beeped at five that afternoon. He fell out of bed all groggy, four hours sleep was just enough to get his heart rate down. Rheumatism in his left knee meant a severe weather change. He pulled the drapes back to see drifting flurries. He dressed quickly hoping to drive through it.He was near London snowbelt, always brutal in bad weather.
The cab radio had the usual church chatter, he left it there when Christmas carols came on. He liked the traditional songs. About a half hour later he could see an accident up ahead. Red flashing lights as an screamed ambulance by.He quickly looked for an out.
Fortunately he was on schedule, just before the bypass. He could take a ten minute detour on the back roads and come out at St.Thomas. He geared down to the off ramp.
The side road while snow drifted, was empty. His headlights casting eerie channels through the tree lined countryside. By now it was dark. He slowed down. The only sound was a cantata with a hallelujah chorus. He sipped his coffee, wipers flapping, passing an occasional farmhouse with all the Santa regalia on the roof.
He knew there was a bridge ahead, he checked his overhead map. Tracking devices frequently sent him wrong.
Suddenly he saw headlights behind him, they surprised him honking, flashing for him to get over. He slowed to the one lane wondering here this guy was going in such an all fired hurry. Then he saw something else flash up ahead, along with a road marker junction with two side roads.
A red sports car, Michigan plates, blaring rock music that sounded like a gigantic heart beat roared by. Once again he saw a flicker of light. He slowed down. Something was on the road. All he thought was the sports car was going too fast, or maybe it was a snowmobile or a caution light. By now the sportscar was out of sight, tail lights a pink blur a half a mile ahead. The blinking light was gone. END PART TWO: To be continued.