I Walk The Sidewalks At Night

I walk the sidewalks at night. Well, my dog and I do.

2 or 3 in the morning. I am a 32 year old white male. I weigh 175lbs. I carry a knife when I do this now.

The sidewalks are poorly lit but this is a gulf coast golfing community in Florida, so everyone is 90. I rarely feel unsafe doing this kind of walk at night because my dog is very protective. He doesn’t let people approach in the dark. He’s a big boy. 80lbs.

I heard the car from far off. A classic car with a powerful engine. A true American built Hotrod. We went around a corner on the sidewalk and it was peeling up and down a long stretch of dark road that was covered in fingers of fog that reached out from the tee boxes and greens of the back-9.

I think he saw us as he passed by a second time. He screeched to a hault about 150 yards away and got out of the vehicle.

I watched him get out of the car from our hiding spot. We hid in the fog on the golf course. I’d turned off the lights the dog and I wear at night, and ducked through some trees as soon as he slammed on his brakes. I was already gone by the time he got out to look.

He just stood there for 5 minutes looking around. Then got back in and started speeding up and down the road again.

The dog and I took shortcuts through the course and trees the whole way home. I’d been so spooked, we didn’t ever head back to the sidewalks that night.

It’s an anticlimactic story, I know. It actually happened, though…so thank God for boring endings.

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