“You okay, kid?” asked the unshaven man leaning over me.
This drunk had just driven up onto the sidewalk and somehow, I’d wound up pinned underneath the bumper, unhurt as far as I could tell, but unable to get out.
“I think so,” I replied.
“Good!” he laughed, spraying spit on me. “Glad, cuz if you were dead I’da picked you up and tossed you off the bridge!”
With that, he walked into a bar, leaving me to figure out if anything was broken, and how to get myself free.
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That was 14 years ago. Today, I’m a fugitive from justice. HA! JUSTICE!?
I travel the byways and highways of North America. Wherever there’s a douchebag in need of clanging, you’ll find the heavy footed justice of me… Ankle Bumper.
