. . .

Right and wrong at 60 mph

It doesn't work, you know.

It used to. Used to be that you could get rid of a carjacker just by putting your foot on the gas and pushing down. Took nerve, to begin with, or something to substitute for it, but it could be done.

Back when a car wasn't worth the risk.

Back when the money in your wallet wasn't important enough.

Back before airbags.

They started small. Driver's side airbags. No one could argue with those. Then they spread. Everyone wants a passenger side airbag, right? If you're ferrying your sister to school, you want her to be just as safe as you, right? And then came the rear airbags, for the kids. And with the the advances in technology, it became safe to drive.

And safe to crash.

And carjacking came back into fashion.

I felt sorry for her. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. I certainly wasn't thinking about how pretty she looked in that tight-fitting tanktop, and how long it had been since Marcia had left. She obviously needed roadside assistance, and maybe a lift to the city, and maybe she'd be grateful, and maybe.

Just maybe.

So now I'm wondering just what I can do about this. It certainly looks loaded. She's serious about it. Safety's off, round in the cylinder, pointed someplace I don't want it to be pointed. And she isn't blinking an eye, and the speedometer is at 120. I could go faster. What's the point? She's just waiting for me to work out the odds and do what she told me to.

There's just something about having a woman pointing a gun at you, I don't care who you are, if you're male, your first reaction is one of fury. Who is this woman, how dare she point a gun at me? Macho chestbeating. That passes quickly, if you're smart. It's just as easy for her to pull the trigger. She just doesn't want me to bleed on the upholstery.

After that comes the fear. I'm past that now. I'm into cold and calculating. And all my calculations come up one way: she's got me cold.

So I stop, of course. Not much else I can do.

After it's all over, I watch her pull away in my car. And I think to myself.

Damn the airbags.