Around nine o’clock we had one of those momentary glimpses of what amounts to neighborhood chaos: picture a white pickup truck, front driver-side wheel folded limply under the vehicle, swerving and accelerating down the street in front of our house. Now picture him doing multiple u-turns, slamming into the curb and at least one parked car, all the while scraping a three-inch wide, sparking gash down the asphalt. Now picture thirty or so of my neighbors rushing around trying to compose the situation, the girl across the road sprinting down the sidewalk on her cellphone attempting to get a license plate identification and the guy across the street snapping photos of the action with his mobile, while another car apparently driven by a local off-duty cop speeds behind in pursuit.

I rushed the scene, Sparkle in tow, if only to investigate around my own curiosity. And when I took Spark for a walk an hour later, the fuzz were still lingering.