The Black Cat

The back road from Georgetown to Round Rock is a twisting, two-lane highway that used to be called "The Old Georgetown Road." It's fairly deserted late at night, which was why I used it. I had been driving only a short time and was not happy on the highway at night.

One very dark night, coming around a curve, car loaded with sleepy teens, I had to step fairly smartly on the brakes to avoid hitting a black fuzzy cat that dashed across the road. I didn't feel anything, or hear a thump, but when I looked to the side of the road, the cat was nowhere to be seen. It wasn't lying on the road behind me, either, so I went on. Suddenly, vestiges of ancient superstition flashed through my mind, and I realized that my path had been crossed by a black cat. And, possibly, a phantom black cat. I had not been going very fast, but there was an S-curve coming up, at the crest of a hill, and something told me to slow down.

As I entered the curve, I saw approaching headlights, and, sure enough, there was the car, coming on very fast, and flattening out the curve by straying far into my lane. Fortunately, I was going slowly enough to pull off onto the steep gravel shoulder with no dire consequences.

So, it wasn't so much the presence of the black cat, but rather, my willingness to give the nod of acquiescence to the ancient superstition that saved me from a possibly deadly wreck on that lonely road.