Aim towards the highway — it's time to get outta Dodge.

Bob glanced behind him and noticed the paper boy . . . uhm . . . Steve?  Sean?  Angela? . . . coming at him full speed.

Alright, it's time to get out of here, Bob thought, and swerved onto the road and headed towards the highway. 

In the distance, in front of a small chain-link fence that separated the neighborhood from the freeway, Bob noticed a large ramp.  With a grin on his lips and a gleam in his eye, Bob pedaled at top speed toward the ramp.

"YEE-HAW, AAAAHHHHHH!" screamed Bob at the top of his lungs as he went up the ramp, tilted slightly, went crashing through the chain-link fence, and skidded across the highway, narrowly avoiding very angry drivers who swerved around Bob.

He got up, brushed himself off, wiped the tears from his eyes, and limped back to his new, albeit now banged-up and dented, bike. 

As Bob turned himself and the bike to face oncoming traffic, because he was in too much pain to pay attention, he found himself facing a very large 4x4.  It looked as if it had no intention of stopping.

With a scream that would rival any cheerleader on any football field, Bob pumped his legs amazingly fast, veered out of the way, and out of oncoming traffic.

Unfortunately, Bob was now slowly rolling downhill.  He could apply the breaks, because they seemed to have quit working.  And he couldn't slow the pedaling because the chain seemed to have snapped.

Ahead, Bob noticed the highway veered off into two directions: into the pier towards the lake, and into a large subdivision which housed too many college students.

The choice was approaching fast.  Which road would he take?

The End

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