We’re driving down the road. A mourning dove – a fast flying, super agile bird is flying in the general direction of the car. With a gasp, Laura brakes hard, slowing us almost down to a stop. The dove angles away from the car, dodging it’s demise by several dozen yards.
Me: You didn’t just brake for that dove.
Laura: I sure did. I didn’t want to hit it.
Me: You were driving 25 miles an hour along a straight road. It was 75 yards away, flying 40 miles an hour, and zig-zagging everywhere.
Laura: So?
Me: You were driving slow, it was flying fast. Flying trumps driving. You were never going to hit it.
Laura: You’re right. As long as I wasn’t moving, I wasn’t going to hit it.