Once you passed a certain age, he maintained, learning was an indulgence to be reserved for the early hours of the morning, and a little more at night — before, or after, one worked up a sweat to earn one’s daily bread. How could I argue with that? He had given me all I had.
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My wife spots them before I do. I am too busy navigating the four-lane highway saturated with late afternoon traffic. Grabbing the dashboard Tzila lets out a yelp. “Isaac… watch out!” Pointing somewhere to the left of me a string of garbled invectives follow.
There they are literally in my face. “What on—?!” My windscreen fills with cantering beasts — a tight-knit band of four — muscles rippling tails swinging and foaming at the bit with their coats glinting in the unforgiving sunlight as they forge ahead. Blithely oblivious to the oncoming traffic their manes unfurl behind them like pennants blowing in the wind. Slamming on my brakes I avert a collision by nanoseconds. Fellow drivers before and to the side of me sound their horns loudly as they do the same forming an instant clog of traffic that brings us all to a crawl. The horses fly by. I turn my head straining to follow the procession.
“Do you think they’ve escaped from a zoo or something?” Tzila wonders her palm stilling a wildly pounding heart.
“I’ve no idea. More likely a traveling circus. Weird eh?” Surely this must be the most incongruous sight I have ever set my eyes upon on an intercity highway.
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