Winter Jogger

So back a few years ago when we lived in Wilsonville OR there was this huge snowfall- lasted a few days, and longer than that afterward to get your car out to drive anywhere.

But since my wife and I are both experienced snow drivers, we packed up ourselves and our 3 boys in our big blue MAV (Mormon Assault Vehicle) and went for it. And we did well, of course. Until the jogger incident.
As we came down and around a gentle bend, I saw the stop light was about 50 yards ahead and I began to gently apply my brakes. The temp was right above freezing and there was a layer of wet, shiny ice on the road. As I tapped my brakes I was not only gently slowing the car, I was testing IF I could slow the car. Naturally there was no response at first, then the car began to gradually slow... And that was when I saw him.

A jogger.

Yes, a jogger bolted out from behind a house, across a crosswalk that was buried an inch of snotslick ice, right in front of me, on a collision course with my van's bumper. I knew if I hit the brakes only parts of my van would change speed (not necessarily slowing down, but possible speeding up) and I'd spin into something else, endangering my family at the risk of this stranger who didn't notice the 2.5 ton van heading down above described treacherousslope toward him. So I opted instead to lean on my horn and alert him of what was more his predicament than mine. My wife gasped- she can do that fast 'cuz you know how women are- and as quickly as he appeared, he was on the other side of the van, still running, but flipping us the bird, then pointing at the crosswalk sign, indicating we were obligated to stop for him, and that he had the right of way regardless of the inclement weather conditions or his stupidity.

Well, the point is, all of us were different levels of shocked by it.

"If only," I thought "We had a couple of A-10s over us, I could order  an air strike on this idiot. Come on, it would be awesome! Two A-10s setting up a squirrel cage around this guy, diving in on him and taking turns strafing him into little crunchy bits. And then painting a running stick figure, or maybe a running shoe on the side of the jet.

No, of course we didn't call in the air strike. Why? Because Oregon is F-15 country and I don't believe they know anything about strafing.

But for the record, that's all that stopped me from trying.