… and the fires are howling way down in the valley tonight. There’s a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye and a blade shining oh so bright.

Funny sometimes when little events from one’s past sneak back in to the forefront of your memory. I was driving home from work yesterday, listening to my iPhone and a song came on that I hadn’t heard in quite some time. It was Bat Out of Hell by Meatloaf and it brought back to mind something that happened to me many, MANY years ago, way back when I worked at McDonald’s on Topsail Road in St. John’s.

I was working the close shift. As the manager on duty when the store closed, I had to ensure all the accounting was balanced and the cash counted. The cash on hand plus the cash float minus the bank deposits from the earlier shifts had to add up to the register totals. The store closed at 2 am and by 2:30-ish I was ready to go. I rushed out to the parking lot, which was pitch black by that hour of the night, jumped into my car and turned on the radio. My assorted tape was cued up to Bat Out Of Hell, about two-thirds of the way through. I cranked the stereo and popped the clutch, tearing through the parking lot. When I got to the entrance, I didn’t slow down, taking a right directly on the empty streets. Red light, right turn. I never hit the brakes and I was shifting gears. Another stop sign, right turn, and again a stop sign and a left turn, each time passing a quick glance to ensure the way was clear but not slowing down. I lived close by so I was home before the song ended. I pulled up to the curb and sat there, finishing the song. In my mind, I was the original Canadian Idol as I belted out the last lines of the song, still cranked at top volume. “Like a bat out of heeeeeeeelllllllllllll ooooo..oooo..ooooo..ooooo.”

Just as the song ended, I shut the car off quickly, pulled the keys and jumped out of the car bumping directly into the chest of an officer from the Royal Newfoundland Constabulary. His car was parked directly behind mine, but the only lights on were his park lights.

He had a huge smile on his face as he rested a firm grip on my shoulder. “How about stopping for a few stop signs next time you drive home from work?”

I managed an awkward “thanks” and walked into the house, thankful I wasn’t carrying a mitt full of tickets.