A Mindboggling Act of Staggering Stupidity

I see shadow people.

Not in the paranormal sense. None of that nonsense for me. So any of you shadow people looking over my shoulder as I type this, BEGONE! I've got no interest in you today. Nor any other day. That headless man I saw by the TV was enough for me. And he was no shadow. He was the real deal. So you amateurs find somebody else to impress.

I'm talking about roadwalkers. Not streetwalkers. We don't have them here in Backroads. They would wear their feet bloody, traipsing about our sprawling little metropolis. Nope. They do their business out of their homes. One was caught a couple of months ago. She had over a hundred clients. Allegedly. Because when her picture was put in the paper, people said, "Wait a minute! SHE had over a hundred customers? Were they blind?" No offense to any blind folks who might be reading this. But that gal was not at all attractive. She was downright scary. Though I suppose her customers were not really paying all that much attention to her face.

Getting back to my shadow people...I saw three of them on Saturday. People who walk in the roadway while wearing black clothing. What's up with that? Death wish? Black is slimming? Doesn't show stains? Warmer because it absorbs the sun's radiation better than light colored clothing? Goth statement?

At 6:30 a.m., two-lane curvy blacktop is not where you want to be wearing black jeans and a black hoodie. Even if you are walking in the lane of oncoming traffic. For cryin' out loud, get yourself a flashlight or an orange cap already! Why would anybody be walking at that hour? On the way to work, maybe? Then you have enough money to spend a dollar on illumination. Or turn around and go the other way, because there's a thrift store that would probably GIVE you such items if you explain that you're low on funds and can't curb your desire to walk in the road just before dawn.

The first shadow person startled me into jerking the steering wheel. Even though he was not in my lane. He was going up a hill, with his back to me. As I crested that hill, I saw the lights of an oncoming vehicle. I flashed my brights as a warning. At the very least, fear of a speeding ticket might make that driver slow down and be more alert for a couple of miles.

The second shadow person was closer to town, having just walked over a rickety one-and-a-half-lane bridge. I shudder to think what might have happened if two cars tried to cross over that bridge before seeing the shadow person. There's nowhere to go except up the iron railings. And a car isn't going to do that.

Shadow person number three was observed on my return trip, walking toward town with his back to traffic. Again, in the road, on a hill, just begging to be mowed down before the driver even knew what he hit.

This situation is crying for a public service announcement. Road Walkers Wear White at Night.