According to NASA, yesterday's satellite (the one plummeting out of orbit) was presumed to break up into twenty six pieces. This was the equipment that would withstand re-entry.
The NASA scientists had (yesterday morning on the 8.00 news) no idea where these twenty six pieces would land because of the satellites orbit. But if you were in Quebec or Scotland - you would be safe. Apparently.
They couldn't predict exactly where they would land but they had a 1:3200 chance of hitting a human. Thats more likely than winning the lottery. Or being hit by a bus. However the liklihood of you (specifically) being hit was 1:1 trillion.
Quite good odds really!
I won't lie to you all though, I did spend the duration of my drive to Ipswich looking at the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of falling debris. I only found out this morning that it landed in the Pacfic Ocean... it was always going to really since water covers 70% of Earth's surface. Had I been smarter, I would have realised this sooner, without Frank telling me.
So I didn't get hit.
But a rabbit did.
By me.
Or rather by Brian.
Like the woman in "...And then it all went up in a puff of feathers." [July 2011] I was a mess.
I called Frank (hands free) through my uncontrollable sobs. The poor bloke thought I'd had an accident. When he realised that I'd only flattened a bunny, he laughed. Not that he's insensitive (of course not!), just relieved that I was actually perfectly alright - if just a little shaken.
My defence for hitting this poor fluffy creature square in the face:
- It was a contra flow on the A12
- I was sandwiched between two lorries (the one behind me was already right up my rear end ... Had he not read yesterday's blogging plea? Perhaps he thought he was exempt because the A12 doesn't constitute a motorway)
- There was no where to swerve
- The animal should have moved. True to form, they really do freeze in headlights.
I've sussed it though. These rabbits that like to dice with death by crossing busy A-roads have got a little plan. Like a suicide plan. By freezing, the driver gets a good look at their little innocent furry face before, wham! Your car bounces over a bump. They know, at least I think they do, that for the rest of the drive, the sensitve drama queen that I am, I would keep replaying that moment. Oh the guilt. Oh the shame.
I can't even bring myself to check the front of Brian for rabbit remnants. Maybe I'll ask Frank!
Perhaps these rabbits want enough people to be disturbed by these killings, so that we will all tell our friends. And our friends will tell their friends about the horrible feeling. About the guilt. About the sleepless nights ( just a small exaggeration!). And then we'll all swerve to avoid these little furry creatures.
The sacrifice of a few rabbits is but a small price to pay for the indefinite guarantee for all rabbits safety on the roads, even at the risk of injuring a few humans.
Or may be they're just aren't particularly clever.
That's what sets us apart. They may breed like ...rabbits, but we are more selective. Thus resulting in less stupidity, we know how to cross roads, and therefore have higher survival rates. And don't need to breed like rabbits to maintain our population.
So I'm sorry Mr and Mrs Rabbit that your son Peter didn't come home last night, but please teach your spawn road safety and I will endeavour to avoid you and your friends. Thank you. ( I will donate some carrots to compensate for your loss)
