Four lanes, one way, my way; right at dusk. Proceeding at a pace I prefer, tapping time on the steering wheel to my song of the moment.

Movement at the curb a half-block ahead - eyes lock on for identification. Someone's pet moving to get across the road, just ahead of me, maybe, if it hurries. It looks my way.

As it abandons the idea and returns to the curb, identification completes - it is the proverbial black cat, explicitly not crossing my path.

That's right, bad luck. Don't even think about it.

Some days it's reassuring to have an understanding with superstition.