Don’t be fooled, I am not the zombie kid all grown up.
While he and I share a love for our turtle friends, I am not nearly as youthful as that guy and he will probably grow up to be better looking than I am.
I can’t explain what it is about our fine reptilian friends that melts my heart (maybe I just like the underdogs?) but I will be damned if a bro gets smooshed on my watch. Over the years I have risked life and limb to hook many a potential ninja up with making it to the other side of the road.
The latest installment of Operation Slowpoke happened this morning when I was taking my son to school. Halfway there I had to stop mid sentence (we were having a great discussion about deer and why we can’t pass cars on a road with double yellow lines) as a couple hundred yards ahead I spotted an all-too-familiar lump with legs trying his/her best to be Usain Bolt, man. There was positively no place to safely stop and help so I sent positive vibes out to the ether in hopes that this one was able to make it safely across the road. Pre-kid days I would’ve pulled off in a safe manner to get the job done but you can’t be risking your kid’s well being, you know? No driveways or berms on this particular road.
Anyhow, after dropping Lil’ Man off at school I retraced my route with high hopes that there wouldn’t be a greasy smear where Raphael once stood. To my surprise, He was in the same damn spot where I passed him twenty minutes prior with his shit all tucked in and, honestly, I presume he was sending up some frantic prayers to the giant Turtle in the sky. About 200 yards past him I was able to pull off in a driveway and I hoofed it back to where he was rooted.
As per usual, my method is to deposit my new acquaintance about four feet past the edge of the road in the direction that he/she is headed. Ain’t nothin’ finer than looking ’em in the eye and having that connection where you realize they now owe you one and will eat all of the spiders that haunt your nightmares.
I like turtles.