Some People Call It an “Accident” I Call It “Genetics.”

Last night I was taking my daughter to a political roundtable discussion (you know how teenagers love those things). As we were walking into the building we were in a crosswalk with a crowd of other people when a hotel van suddenly lurched into reverse and slammed into my left shoulder knocking me over. I immediately recalled that a ery similar event happened to me almost exactly 20 years ago when I was crossing the street in downtown Nashville and a city bus swerved into the crosswalk hitting me in the left shoulder.

In both of these instances I was in a crowd where no one else was hit but me and I was in the area designated for pedestrians crossing with traffic. I also recalled that my grandfather was killed when he was walking on the side of a country road where the only car within miles swerved off the road to knock him 25 feet into a corn field.

So this started me thinking. It must be genetic. In both cases where I was hit no one else in the crowd was touched, but my left shoulder was irresistible to the vehicle in question. The car that killed my grandfather had to leave the road to hit him. Magnetic attraction. So, like my grandfather, moving vehicles are drawn to something in my blood that makes them want to touch me hard enough that I notice them. Quite frankly, I’m flattered. However, that doesn’t mean that I will be less cautious. They may be affectionate, but they're still dangerous.

The only other explanation I can think of is that my left shoulder has an uncontrollable addiction to moving vehicles. Possible. But unlikely. I’m going with genetics on this one.