Thursday, March 24, 2005

...The Lack of Easter Eggs Delivered to the Bay Area in 1995

10 years ago the first night of Passover fell on the night before Easter. Which was convenient because it allowed my then-girlfriend Kari and I to drive down from school on Friday, attend my parents Seder on Saturday night, then hit her mom’s Easter party Sunday afternoon on our way back up North.

My sister, who had graduated from the same university I was attending and still lived in the area, joined us along with her then-boyfriend/now-husband, Chef. While Kari and I, being students, had fairly flexible schedules, my sister and Chef both had jobs, meaning we couldn’t begin our journey until Friday evening after they were finished with work.

Several hours into the trip, either my sister or Chef pointed out a shortcut to me, one I had heard about before but never knew exactly where to catch, that allowed you to bypass much of the heavier traffic on the 101 and cut several minutes off the last leg of the drive. The only way I can describe the shortcut, which was actually quite a pretty drive during the daylight, is that it looked like someone had paved a small road into the middle of the forest. Visibility was not great on this night because it was very late, there were virtually no other cars on the road, the lights on my tiny Ford Escort were not especially powerful and the road didn’t include any sort of streetlights.

So you can understand that I really had no way of preventing the premature demise of a certain animal, one who was never taught or chose to ignore the look both ways before your cross rule, who decided to hop right in front of my car within a timeframe that didn't allow me to stop or swerve in time to avoid a collision. I like animals and all, and yeah, I kind of still feel bad about the whole ordeal despite the fact I’m confident a jury would be forced to determine that there was just no way, barring divine intervention, that a car can avoid hitting something that jumps right out in front of it at the very last second.

Enough with the justifications and on with the repentance:
Easter Bunny, I’m sorry.
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