I survive a violent assault
Forty-five minutes ago I was fortunate to survive a violent, deliberate attempt to cause me harm. I took the dog for a walk, and just around the corner – less than 3 minutes from our house, on foot – a man in a pickup truck drove directly at me.
There are no sidewalks in Montara. Pedestrians must walk on the road. The road in this case was more than wide enough for two vehicles. There was no car behind us. It was full daylight out, but not bright enough to be shining the driver’s eyes.
This was not a deserted area; in my walk I saw probably 15 other dogs (with many people), kids being dropped off, joggers, etc.
I was not invisible – I was wearing light jeans, a bright red shirt, white shoes.
There’s just no way to explain away the other person’s behavior except to identify it as vicious, deliberate, and hurtful.
The older white Mazda pickup came towards us at fairly high speed. He was driving close to the edge of the road (unusual when the whole road is open). I stopped walking and looked up at him, as if to make eye contact. He did not waver. I did the only thing I could do, I jumped off the road into the grass/ditch, at the last moment. He didn’t waver; I saw his fairly young face and sunglasses as he sped past.
In some ways, thank goodness the only choice I had was to get out of the way. Had I been holding a gun, or been ensonced in my own shell of steel and rubber, I might have given into the anger and indignation than this intent-to-harm engendered. As it is, I’m shocked and hurt, and helpless. But safe.