It was like a science fiction fantasy CG FX epic for a second there. And when I say ‘for a second there’ I’m pretty sure I literally mean one second. There’s a faint chance it was one and a half… maybe.

I was driving along at the extreme high velocity of approximately 38 mph. I wouldn’t know exactly as my speedometer doesn’t work. But, judging from the wind against my face, the comparable pace I was traveling to the other drivers on this 4 lane section of city paving, as well as generally accepted norms – I’m willing to go with 38mph with a margin of error variance of 5mph… ok, 7mph.

From the moment I noticed I was on a collision course time slowed remarkably. Maybe the interpolation of my mind allowed me sensory powers not realized by my sight – or maybe I've seen The Matrix one too many times, but there it was – bullet speed. I saw each moment frame by frame, exaggerated by a factor of maybe 10. 10 seconds of experience milked from 1 second of real time action.

It came swooping into my view in that imprecise way they have. Bouncing almost... bandied about by forces stronger than its weight. The trajectory was directed right at my head. My limited range of movement given my current status of scooting and the helmet swerved my face as best I could, but the damn thing seemed to weave with me like a seasoned boxer. It was clear we would collide, and that one – maybe both – of us would die.

It was one of those situations where I deduced avoiding the collision would be worse for me. Like when you see a cute little puppy in the road, swerve out of your way to avoid it and cause a deadly car wreck that kills a family of five in a minivan. In hindsight the puppy should have been flattened for the greater good. If I tried to swerve my scooter to avoid this certain collision, there was a good chance I’d hit another vehicle or lose control.

On the other hand, if I continued on my due course a direct collision was eminent. Considering all factors of speed, mass, momentum and material composition I stood a good chance of surviving the wreck, my partner in this future collision however did not.

For a moment (and yes, all this was being calculated in my mind during the aforementioned second of reality) I placed myself in the viewpoint of my potential collider. There I was, zooming towards him (or her, I couldn’t tell in this particular situation) at a horrifying pace. My mouth set in a firm line, prepared for our impact. My helmet and oversize sunglasses masking the rest of my face and therefore expression from view. An inhuman presence that was prepared to dish out death. I looked very intimidating, to a butterfly.

Because you’ve got to figure, a butterfly isn’t very big, squishes easily and has fragile wings, when this butterfly hits my face it’s not going to go well. I’ll have to contend with its blood and guts and wing pieces spread across my countenance, but this creature will never have to contend with anything ever again.

The moment had come; this game of chicken – ironically played with a butterfly – had resulted in no party chickening out. Not by choice, neither of us was motivated by pride. At least I don’t think so, do insects have pride? If any do the butterfly would be first to personify this human taint as their wings are the perfect décor to project vanity. Regardless I honestly don’t think this particular butterfly was driven by ego. I think it was just the unfortunate course our lives were on, that mine would continue from and that this creature would not. The moment had come. I uncontrollably winced and blinked my eyes for a second at the point of impact. And then it was over, and there were no butterfly guts on my face. Apparently wind stream dynamics, curvature of design elements and the butterfly’s own innate sense of survival worked in concert to allow this to now be categorized as a ‘near miss’. It’s for the better, of course. But let it be known, I was ready.