LAST WEEK WE LEFT MICKEY AND WANDA, our two young philosophers in love, quibbling on a windy mountain road late at night on their way to their first-ever romantic weekend. The debate was over the etiquette of road kill. Mickey had just run over a rabbit and kept on driving. Wanda wants him to go back and check on the rabbit’s health.

“I am not turning around and driving all that way back to check on a rabbit. It’s too far. It happened five minutes ago.” Mickey was trying to be as level-headed as possible. He fully believed in his decision.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been accelerating for the last three minutes trying to distance yourself from this problem. You injured a harmless creature while driving in its territory. If you turn around, you’re hitting it is only an accident. If you keep driving, it’s an act of cruelty.”

“False, Wanda, false.” He squeezed the wheel a bit firmer. “Turning around would be a waste of time. It has been so long that if the rabbit were severely injured, it would have died by now. If it was slightly injured, it has hobbled off the roadway to heal, and I’m not going to follow a trail of blood through the woods with a flashlight. What if it’s alive and needs immediate medical attention? By your standards, we would be cruel not to rush to the nearest animal hospital and plunk down our credit card.”

“True, Mickey, true.” She jostled him with the palms of her feet. “If the rabbit is dead or gone, I’ll accept that. If it’s there and mortally wounded, we can perform humane euthanasia. I’m sure your pragmatic philosophy supports that, as does my humanitarian philosophy. But, imagine that poor rabbit injured, in pain, frightened, unable to crawl off the highway. Another car could come around and crush it. You have to turn around now.”

“A car has probably come by already. And that would be a good thing, euthanasia, put the rabbit out of its misery. Problem solved, Wanda.” He kept driving, though he slowed a bit.

She stopped talking and stared at him. It was a long, studious stare, a thorough stare, a stare than ran head to toe, body to soul. She was sizing him up.

He turned and looked at her looking back at him. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do you seriously want me to turn around now after all this time?”

“Which one of us is making this situation worse every minute?” asked Wanda.

“You are, by not accepting the logical facts. The rabbit is dead. Let’s just put this behind us and go camping and make out in the tent.”

Wanda went right on staring. “I’m not so sure I want to do that anymore.”

Mickey’s firm grip on the wheel went limp. “You’re mad at me because of the rabbit?”

“It’s not mad I’m feeling. I’m not mad at you. I’m just doing some projections in my head.”

Mickey was befuddled. “What do you mean? What sort of projections?”

“I’m just wondering if you’d always be there for me. Always.”

“Wanda, you know how I feel about you. I told you how I felt once. Remember that night? Just keep remembering that night.”

“Why? So you don’t have to say it again? Love is a verb, Mickey. You had a choice of either helping a wounded animal or taking care of your own personal needs, and you passed that suffering animal by. Why are you in such a hurry? Are you that eager to be with me? Are you driven by lust? That wouldn’t work for a logician, now, would it? You are either a false philosopher or a weak one.”

Mickey laughed. What else could he do, defend against that onslaught? “Wanda, it was just a rabbit, OK? We had chicken for lunch. I didn’t hear you complain then.”

“You had chicken for lunch. I ate your fries.”

“You didn’t tell me to get prosthetics for the poor chicken whose legs I ate.”

Wanda sighed. “Mickey, I think that someday I could fall in love with you, but not yet. I believe we both need to take a break and try this relationship again another day. I don’t want to go camping with you.”

Mickey pulled the car over at an unlit T intersection. “OK. What do want me to do? Go back and get the rabbit? Fine. I’ll go get the rabbit. I’ll pay the vet bill. I’ll personally nurse it back to health and release it into the wilds. Please don’t go.”

Wanda shook her head. “You’re doing it all for the wrong reasons. I didn’t tell you this before, but I only live three miles from here. If you make a right, you can drive me to my parents’ house. They can bring me back to school on Monday.”

Reluctantly, Mickey drove Wanda three miles up the road and turned in, as directed, at a sign that read “Welcome to Max and Minnie’s Rabbit Farm.”

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.