You Never Know When You’ll Meet a New Friend

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You Never Know When You’ll Meet a New Friend, especially when you’re taking out the garbage at night for collection the next morning, and you’re a 100 feet from the street.

As I was putting the plastic bag in its pick-up location by our house, I glanced down toward the street, and from the dim streetlight, saw a small, red flashing light passing the driveway. That had to be someone on a bicycle.

Then I was reminded this was not a good night for biking. We had come out of the deep freeze for a day when the temp rose to the upper fifties. The night was still pleasant, but it was foggy.

That reminded me of a previous bicycle story. One day when I was returning from the Vet, I came down a long hill on a four lane road close to our house. There was a fellow on a bicycle on my side. I am always cautious of bikers and joggers, and try to extend to them the same courtesy they extend to me. Sometimes they are out in the middle of the street, and refuse to move over. This fellow had gotten as close to the edge of the road as possible, but I still didn’t have much room because of a car on my left. That prompted me to utter to myself I thought the fellow was an idiot for the road he had chosen to ride.

Not long after that I was at my primary doctor, and noticed a bicycle in his office. He had ridden it to work that morning, and said he had come down the very road I just mentioned.

I told Doc of my encounter with the biker within the last month or two, and what I had silently called the fellow. I emphasized to Doc next time I saw some fellow on that road I would say, “That’s no idiot; that’s my doctor.” His sense of humor is as dry as the Sahara Desert, but even he laughed at that.

I thought I would get to the mailbox down by the street before the biker rode out of sight over a slight hill. I looked up the street and saw nothing. On my periphery I caught sight of the flashing light starting up my neighbor’s driveway, then veering toward me through a small wooded area.

I still couldn’t see what it was, but I knew no bike could negotiate that. The light turned and started back down my neighbor’s driveway. It cut across a portion of our yard, and came up right beside me.

Only then could I tell it was a medium sized, black and white dog with a flashing light on its collar. He stopped long enough for me to pet him, started wagging his tale, ambled down in the ivy close to the mailbox, bathroomed, wagged his tail some more, turned, and trotted off in the direction from which he had first come, going home I assume.

I count him as a friend, because he wagged his tail. The outdoor plumbing facilities we’ll discuss next time I see him.

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