My Race with Destiny

I rounded the right-hand corner, accelerating from a residential street onto a much-quicker four-lane highway, and this is what I saw.

There, some 15 metres ahead on my right, on the narrowing vestiges of the merge lane, was a cream-coloured aluminum can, the tall kind that typically holds craft beer and such these days.

The can was positioned horizontally and perpendicular to the road’s edge.

It had been rolling slowly in the wind but just as my eyes locked on it, a stiffer current swept in and the can took off like a rocket, rolling furiously and efficiently and straight as an arrow on the smooth, dark asphalt, perfectly in parallel with my car’s course.

The chase was on. The scene resembled something out of the wild, as if the can were a hare or a fox that I’d startled from behind and it had bounded directly away.

Except here I was not on foot. My sporty car closed the short distance in a matter of seconds.

I turned my head to track the can as it bravely sped along in tandem with me, probably mere inches from a crushing death. I felt now as if I were chasing a caribou in a helicopter.

When I drew abreast and the can disappeared from view, I admired its fortitude. It had neither slowed nor wavered on its determined, desperate path, as if somehow it knew that to race with me would be a fruitless but proud and defiant showing — and likely the most valiant use of what could be its final moments here on Earth.

Of course I’d meant the can no harm but how could it have known? Who’s to be trusted in these days of Mad Max-esque kill-or-be-killed savagery? Is there any choice but to sprint head-long from hulking, fuming dangers seen on the desolate open road?

Despite the can’s apparent valour, I knew that anything made of delicate aluminum could not last long on the wind-swept highway that we shared, and I briefly considered a merciful swerve that would put the can to rest. It would not have resented such a maneuver, I reasoned, and, indeed, may have welcomed it.

But as I switched to the left lane and pushed the car to cruising speed, I resolved that I would not play god.

I understood that the courageous can, at last emptied of its liquid burden and moving freely in the wind, deserved independence for every last moment that fate would allow.

I wanted the can to live.

I focused on the road ahead and did not look back.