I heard a cacophonous death rattle emanating from the radio. I glanced down to read who was singing, I should have known it was that old Crone Bono/Paul Hewson.
In the time I changed the channel and looked back up to the road, I was in the middle of it with a taxi turning onto the same stretch. Millimeters from disaster. A swerve and a racing pulse followed.
I always felt that little runt had it in for me.
