The car started overheating fifteen minutes from home.
Warning lights. A five hour drive still ahead.
Bad timing. Bad luck. That's how it felt.
The ravens had been shouting at me for days. I'd waved them off. They usually mean something.
So I turned around. Swapped cars. Started the trip again.
Later I did the maths.
If it had held on another hour I'd be stranded somewhere with no town and no signal.
The car didn't fail me. It failed early. Close to home. While I still had a way out.
We call it bad luck when the warning arrives. We'd call it a disaster if it didn't.
Sometimes protection looks exactly like the thing going wrong.
