Traffic Life : Passionate Tales and Exit Strategies
Edited by Stephan Wehner
An Anthology
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 4                       Touched by an Angel?  sorted out too, thanks to some very nice people that will be entering your life shortly.'      'This sounds great, God. But how is the fact that all of these people will be treating me wonderfully supposed to give me a wake-up call?'      'Man, I must have had you hit your head a lot harder than I realized. The fact that these people will go out of their way to treat you so nicely when you need help should leave you a bit humbled by it all. So what I want you to figure out are ways of living your life that will return that kindness and serve the people around you: Family, friends, strangers.'      'That's it?'      'That's it.'      'That's too easy.'      'Just try it, buck-o. If it was that easy, we could have avoided stuff like the Spanish Inquisition and disco. Espe- cially disco. The seventies were an ugly decade, Gregory.'      'So I guess that means that I should go easy on the kid driving the car that just hit me? You know, turn the other cheek and all?'      'I said be nice, not be an idiot. The kindest thing that you can do for this kid is to scare the pants off him. Being kind doesn't mean being a pushover. He nearly killed you through his inattention. That's inexcusable. It will make him a better driver in the future if you make this incident especially memorable. Feel free to go and tear him a new one.'      'Okay, got it.'      'Well, Gregory, I have to be going.'      'Gotcha, God.'      'Oh, I nearly forgot. Keep riding your bike. I want you to keep it up, even after this accident. You're at your sanest when you are on your bicycle, notwithstanding the fact that, right now, you appear to be having a conversation with a disembodied voice in your head.'      'Thanks God, will do.'      'Ciao my son, and Happy Landings.'               This story is dedicated to all riders who had their conversation with God turn out differently.
 Frogspawn Man versus the Boy Racers  Attila the Stockbroker   Mid nineties. March. West Sussex. I've been to a stream next to the A27 looking for frogspawn to populate our brand new garden pond. I guess I first went there when I was about seven and have been many times since. The road is much wider now the cars are faster and most of the stream is gone but one stubborn bit remains next to the concrete and the cars and the frogs have obviously had an orgy of Bacchanalian proportions. I've found lots of spawn, very quickly. A glutinous, black-specked mess fills my bucket. It's a beautiful spring day. I'm very happy                                   5

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