Often, when one thinks of a young brother and sister duo, riding their bikes along tree lined streets in a small town and delivering the breaking news of the world daily, endearing and the epitome of a Norman Rockwell print comes to mind. But ohhhhhh, let me tell ya... the two of us endured many dangers. The elements, rabid guard dogs, disgruntled customers and a pervert or two.
So there I was pedaling my bike slowly, in the dark, with my head facing down to cover it from the bitter cold breeze and listening to my pink walk man. I was a sight to be seen. I looked like a stuffed sausage, covered head to toe with layer upon layer of winter gear. This was so un-cool, to me. If a boy from my junior high ever caught sight of me, I knew it would be the end of the world for me.
Then it hit me... that is no dog! "I hit a moose! I hit a freakin' moose! The moose is going to trample and kill me! I'm going to be killed by a moose!" We looked into each other's eyes. Mono et mono. Me and Mildred the Moose. The moose that I hit was a cow moose. A female moose and she didn't move an inch. I wasn't sure if she was about to charge or if she was as shocked as I was. But we each just stood there looking at each other. It was uncomfortable and I wasn't sure which one of us should leave first. Then just like that, Mildred took off in the opposite direction.
...but she might as well have looked like this, when our eyes met.