StraightAhead

I guess everybody has stories that stick out in their lives , that they never forget. I have some that I have told over and over to whom ever will listen. Some are pretty unbelievable, some are not, I suppose. Some people don’t seem to believe this story about the Black Racer. That is a kind of snake, for those of you who don’t know. It could also be a marathon runner from Kenya, but in this case I am talking about the snake. When I was a young tyke of about seven, I was living in Humboldt, a small town in west Tennessee. The year would have been 1953 or there abouts. Humboldt still had many dirt/gravel roads within the town. I was riding my bicycle down one of these about two blocks from my house, when all of a sudden a long black snake came out of the bar ditch to my left and fell in behind me and my bike as pretty as you please. Well, needless to say, I pretty much freaked and added substantial speed to my lazy pace. I looked back to make sure I had pulled away from her. No , that didn’t happen. The snake was staying right in position directly behind my rear tire. I really freaked then and started pumping for all I was worth. The racer stayed right with me. I covered a good block by this method, the snake staying right in my vapor trail, until I made the decision to ditch the bike and run into a near by house on the corner. I ran up to the front porch of the home and ran right into the living room in the front of the house since the door was unlocked, luckily. There was a man and woman in the room watching television, or just talking. That part is a little hazy. I’m pretty sure they were watching television , though, even though not that many people had them that early. They looked up at me with that deer in the headlights look. I had to do some quick explaining about why I was barging into their living room unannounced. They bought it as I recall. They had a pretty good laugh whether or not they believed the story. They knew that I thought it was real and had really happened by the out of breath excitement in my voice and the shakiness of my knees. I’ll never forget that snake homing in on me and how fast that son of a gun could move. That’s why they call them racers. I’ve since read about snakes a lot. My brother and I used to catch all sorts of snakes. I think I must have gone through its territory and at times they can be pretty aggressive and protective. That just must have been one of those times. I never saw those people again and never knew their names.