I headed over to the Harp's supermarket in Fayetteville to pick up a few items. We've all done much the same countless times.
There was no way I could have known how the challenge that afternoon didn't lie in my skills at shopping for food. Instead I suddenly found myself rushing pell-mell to avoid a calamity on the bustling Arkansas 265 below the market's steeply inclined parking lot.
After paying for several bags of groceries, I headed for the car and positioned the cart beside the open rear door so I could place them in the back set.
As I turned my back for an instant, the empty cart began to slowly roll downhill toward the highway probably 100 yards distant.
By the time I looked around, it had gathered speed with about a 10-yard head start. All I could see were all those vehicles below whisking past in both directions at what looked to be at least 50 miles an hour.
My mind was racing. Should I run and try to head it off before it hit the road? Can I even catch it? Probably not. I opted to jump back behind the wheel and give chase, believing it was my best chance of averting tragedy as the cart sped toward all those unsuspecting motorists.
I caught up with the bouncing, rattling metal runaway about halfway to the highway and began (in rodeo terms) wrangling it with my front bumper.
Just imagine the entertaining sight that must have been for anyone watching. A full-growed, wild-eyed man chasing a runaway grocery cart with his car. The only thing missing was popcorn.
It became quickly obvious that forcing the basket away from the parking lot's exit onto the street would be difficult, so I began nudging it with the bumper toward a spot to the right.
But the cart's wheels were resisting as I drove alongside trying to shove and nudge as best I could. By now we were moving really fast and it was obvious time was quickly running out.
So about 30 yards from the street, in an act of desperation, I turned the wheel sharply to the right to knock the cart off balance. It began to teeter wildly back and forth.
Keeping up the pressure, it finally, mercifully, miraculously, flipped onto its side and slid to a stop just shy of the road. At least it wasn't responsible for a four-car pileup likely waiting only 10 yards ahead. (Notice how I artfully blamed "it," rather than myself.)
Drawing a deep breath, I sat quietly for a couple of minutes gathering composure while thanking the Almighty that I could pull off such a feat without ever participating in a rodeo. Who needs a cutting horse if you have another form of horsepower?
Climbing out, I collected the cart and laboriously pushed it back uphill to the store. There it rejoined dozens of anonymous brothers.
Walking back to the car, I began to laugh out loud at myself and what had just happened. Isn't this how so many things unexpectedly arise?
I'm betting some readers have encountered similar unintended parking-lot predicaments during their own shopping excursions.
Oblivious highway passersby at that moment thankfully never realized what a close call we shared. Probably not a true GodNod. Yet observing that wild ride from above likely made him grin.
Readers on 'woke' CDC
Ol' Mike touched a nerve with the recent column citing the Centers for Disease Control choosing to change its descriptions of people ranging from "alcoholic" to "illegal alien" to inoffensive "woke" language for its handbook.
I mentioned how mystified I was over what apparently has become the CDC's new contribution to society at a time when the agency is having a problem with credibility by offering contradictory and confusing advice dealing with the pandemic.
That column prompted these edited-for-space reactions from valued readers:
From "KD": "I read your article on the word police today, and I guess my main takeaway was--hey, not everyone is woke."
David Kelley: "You do realize the 'woke' among us will now bombard you with nasty letters and comments. They do not like being questioned or called out. As you pointed out, using soft and ridiculous terms and language doesn't change the nature of what is being labeled. I have worked in several treatment and residential centers, working with addicts, etc. They thrived on that word, along with 'alcoholic.' Didn't bother them any. I believe it is very patronizing and condescending of the 'woke' to insist their language is the only one appropriate."
Will Cohen offered: "I just finished reading today's column of Sunday the 19th. And once again you have confirmed for me what I determined the real meanings of the abbreviation CDC. I say meanings in the plural due to the fact the two terms are interchangeable based upon whatever the agency spews on any particular day. I find most frequently it's the Confusion Distribution Center. Other times it deserves the title Contradiction Distribution Center. It's sad they've become another government agency not worthy of my trust."
Marilyn Goldsmith kept it short and sweet: "Thank you. I bet you get grief from the 'wakes.' If they wake up in time to read anything."
Mike Masterson is a longtime Arkansas journalist, was editor of three Arkansas dailies and headed the master's journalism program at Ohio State University. Email him at mmasterson@arkansasonline.com.