Running with Steve, he who doesn't speak, at night is a challenge at times. He prefers the road, quite literally. Outwardly, it appears he plays some kind of game of chicken with on coming cars, steadfastly refusing to step back onto the pavement. The pavement is riddled with hidden trip hazards. The road smooth, but busy with traffic. It's awkward sometimes, the odd parping of a horn, but more so the impending fear of him getting hit. He used to wear a small head torch, it's single red light pointing backwards.
Of course we'd laugh at him for this, provoking absolutely no reaction whatsoever. Critiquing a mates apparel is perfectly legitimate. Like when Chris turned up once in his new yellow T and yellow shorts that curiously matched his yellow trainers. Just as we drew breath, he interjects with a subtle "don't say a fucking word..." Anyway, Steve stopped wearing his rearward facing reading lamp, and when we enquired why he calmly stated "because you wankers took the rip".
It seems we are a sensitive bunch deep down, myself included. Bobble hats are my downfall... "you going skiing Rich?" Steve has recently had a birthday. Not announced by him, of course, other than for a fresh display of highly luminous running accessories. His gloves are a marvel and are by far the most effective of all so called reflective clothing I've seen. I've long since discussed and even argued with them, that you can wear as much day-glo yellow as you like. To a motorists, it's all black. Invisible black.
Only the proper reflective material lights up and really only then anything that is below waist height. A motorist simply doesn't see you. And on Monday I noticed a new development with Steve. He carries a small hand torch held in his hand like a baton, but with the head pointing down. And when he hears a car from behind, he very subtly turns his torch on, and points it backwards. The cars slow, he jumps back on the pavement and all is well. Very effective I thought. I've said nothing, obviously!
