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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1428048-Not-sure-whats-going-on
Rated: ASR · Other · Other · #1428048
A living diff. Can't imagine why anyone would be interested in reading this.
As I pulled out, a bird flew at an angle across the road in front of the car. How did they do that? Their timing always seems perfect.

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I started the car, feathering the gas to keep the revs up for a second. Without that bit of coaxing the car would have died when I put it in drive. I pulled out onto the road, making a right. The sound of the car scared a bird up ahead who flitted across the road at an angle, just in front of the car. I wondered how did they do that? Their timing always seemed so perfect.

These days wondering was a luxury. The mind was better spent focusing on serious problems.

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Avi started the car and tapped the gas a couple of times to keep it alive. He pulled out onto the road, making a right. The sound of the car scared a bird up ahead who flitted across the road at an angle, barely missing the car. He wondered how they did that? Their timing was always perfect.

He felt a pang of guilt and chided himself for wasting energy wondering about trivial things like the problem solving capacity of sparrows. The mind, he thought, was better used for serious problems.

He rounded the corner towards the main gate. As he approached, he looked to see which car would be parked next to booth. Would it be the shiny red Mustang, the raggedy old Pinto, or the old but well kempt Regal? As he passed the gate, he looked through the window to see which attendant would be there looking back at him. He liked this game, matching the car with the person. He'd only been to the park 4 times, but he was already getting good at it.

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Avi started the car and tapped the gas a couple of times to keep it alive. He pulled out onto the road, making a right. The sound of the car scared a bird up ahead who flitted across the road at an angle, barely missing the car. He wondered how they did that? Their timing was always perfect.

He felt a pang of guilt and chided himself for wasting energy wondering about trivial things like the problem solving capacity of sparrows. The mind, he thought, was better used for serious problems.

He rounded the corner towards the main gate. As he approached, he looked to see which car would be parked next to booth. Would it be the shiny red Mustang, the raggedy old Pinto, or the old but well kempt Regal? As he passed the gate, he looked through the window to see which attendant would be there looking back at him. He liked this game, matching the car with the person. He'd only been to the park 4 times, but he was already getting good at it.

That was worrying. The gate was the only way in or out of the park, and as far as he could tell, there were only three people who worked the gate. If he was already familiar with their faces, surely they were quickly becoming familiar with his. Each time he'd entered the park, the attendants had taken the time to look at his pass and his face. Jesus, the only thing they were missing were cameras and his shit was fried before he even started. This wasn't going to work. This park was a poor choice. He needed to pick another place. Another place that offered seclusion and access to lots of strangers. There was another park within 20 mile of here. He'd have to check it out. Maybe the gate workers there weren't as diligent or maybe there were no attendants at all.
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