The other day as I left Scott’s place, some black dude in a black car drove up to me and asked where I was going and I said “center city” and motioned me to get in his car while he said “come on, I’ll give you a lift” and I said “No thanks, I have a bike” as I went to my bike and i thought that this might be the only time that I could use the advice “don’t get in any cars with strangers” which I heard many times long long ago. And then as I rode off I wondered whether or not I should have reported this incident to this police and then I thought that I really didn’t have any info to give them other than the fact that it was a black man in a black car and it was probably nothing really but then I thought of the worst case scenario, if, for that brief instance I lapsed in judgment and got in that car, if I would have been driven to some dark lot and slaughtered with a knife. “Nah that couldn’t ever happen,” I told myself. But then the thought occurred to me: why did he practically floor it as he went away after he talked to me.
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