I walk the sidewalks at night. Well, my dog and I do.
2 or 3 in the morning. I am a 32 year old white male. I weigh 175lbs. I carry a knife when I do this now.
The sidewalks are poorly lit but this is a gulf coast golfing community in Florida, so everyone is 90. I rarely feel unsafe doing this kind of walk at night because my dog is very protective. He doesn’t let people approach in the dark. He’s a big boy. 80lbs.
I heard the car from far off. A classic car with a powerful engine. A true American built Hotrod. We went around a corner on the sidewalk and it was peeling up and down a long stretch of dark road that was covered in fingers of fog that reached out from the tee boxes and greens of the back-9.
I think he saw us as he passed by a second time. He screeched to a hault about 150 yards away and got out of the vehicle.
I watched him get out of the car from our hiding spot. We hid in the fog on the golf course. I’d turned off the lights the dog and I wear at night, and ducked through some trees as soon as he slammed on his brakes. I was already gone by the time he got out to look.
He just stood there for 5 minutes looking around. Then got back in and started speeding up and down the road again.
The dog and I took shortcuts through the course and trees the whole way home. I’d been so spooked, we didn’t ever head back to the sidewalks that night.
It’s an anticlimactic story, I know. It actually happened, though…so thank God for boring endings.-ss