It looked to him at first as two animals aiming for each other in a showdown:  coming from the left a tractor plowing a field and from the right a bullock-driven hoe plowing that same field.  He got off his bike to watch the collision.  He could see that the man on the machine was not all that different from the man behind the animal, but he knew that the man and the bullock was about to get as crushed as a roach when a heavy foot rolls over.  The man on the machine could continue on if he wished and crash through all the fields and only a stronger machine could stop him.  Still, just when he sensed the collision was to happen, it didn’t:  the man on the machine passed by the man behind the bullock.  Back on his bike and cutting through fields, he knew that that image of the crossover would linger in him, and would likely surface whenever he needed to remind himself that the old and the new don’t necessarily collide as much as they pass each other by.