I was just walking around my neighborhood figuring out how to solve a problem in my research. Resolved to write out my conclusions, I crossed 35th Street, arms folded, maybe one arm gesturing to myself, and was approaching the corner. I hear a car coming from behind in my direction, and the conversation in my head went something like this: “I better get to the curb. I mean, if the driver is some nut, he could hit me, and it’s much less likely if I make it to the curb.” So I get to the curb, and the car, a late-model white Toyota Corolla sedan, passes and slows down. I figure they are asking for directions. A young woman in the back seat leans her head out the window and says “Are you all right?” “Yeah … thanks.” The car drives off. I continued home, listened to track four of Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers: Back in Your Life as I wrote this.