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Dorothy Thompson, an American journalist who lived from 1893 to 1961, said: "Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live."

I was thinking about this quote on a recent bicycle ride when death was inches away. With four friends, I was riding on the quietest of country roads when a pickup truck towing a trailer passed us.

He was mostly in the oncoming lane on a blind left-hand curve. Fortunately, the oncoming car was seconds later, when the pickup had a chance to return to the right-hand lane. The what-if scenarios were enough to drive me momentarily crazy.

An hour later, while rapidly descending a mountain pass, one of the riders blew out a rear tire. There were several vehicles around, including, ironically, a hearse. The rider managed to bring it to a stop without crashing.

My friend John Gregg, a semi-retired surgeon and neuroscientist, was incidentally alongside me on this ride. He told me later, "The amygdala is an almond-shaped lobe of our limbic cortex, the region of our forebrain known for many decades to be the seat of human emotions. It has a central role in our unconscious actions, emotional drives and memory consolidation. It is especially responsive to physically or emotionally traumatic events.

"The amygdaloid complex presumably evolved as an instinctual means of mobilizing individuals for protective 'fight-or-flight' responses to dangers. Unfortunately, fearful or painful events, sometimes a single event, may program the amygdala permanently."

Overly stimulated fear responses may manifest themselves in anxiety-depressive disorders, phobias, post-traumatic stress disorders and even sociopathic behaviors.

The tragic spate of killings in our area has wrenched residents from our innocence and complacency.

William Morva killed a security guard at a local hospital and a deputy sheriff in August 2006. Seung-Hui Cho killed 32 classmates and faculty members in April 2007 at Virginia Tech. Tech student Haiyang Zhu is accused of beheading a fellow student on campus in January. And two Tech students were killed in the Jefferson National Forest 15 miles from campus only two months ago.

No arrests have been made in the latest killings. A vicious killer is still on the loose. Some of our fears are well-founded.

At student orientation at Tech, my wife, Jane, and I met a woman from Philadelphia whose daughter was an incoming freshman with ours. She wrote me a few weeks later, saying, "I learned last night about the tragic killings of the two Virginia Tech students. I feel both horrified of the occurrence and concerned. Should I be worried for [my daughter's] safety? I'm interested to hear your opinion since you have such a great pulse on the school as well as the community."

I think the image most of us have of the New River Valley is one of unparalleled peacefulness and security. It is a sparsely populated region, far from urban woes. We are a civil and respectful people, with a great acceptance for outsiders. We think random acts of violence, particularly murder, are things urbanites face.

I touched on this with a young stranger who came to my door selling liquid cleaning fluid. He was a tall ebony man. He wore a Chicago Bears jersey and spoke faster than I could think.

I bought from him, not because I felt he was a charity case, but because I am a consumer and could use what he sold. But he told me that many people throughout my Caucasian neighborhood were too scared of him to even open the door.

My friend, Tom, a gun nut, thinks I'm irresponsible not to own or carry a gun. Having one gives him a level of personal security he believes everyone should feel.

In my 55 years on the planet, I have never had a circumstance when I think brandishing heat would have made the situation better.

Tom -- and I'm not giving his last name for obvious reasons -- thinks nothing of riding his motorcycle at speeds over 100 mph. Reckless driving laws notwithstanding, in Southwest Virginia, deer are everywhere and are a constant threat. Who is facing more risk?

I'll admit my favorite sports of bicycling and motorcycling have inherent risks. Both kill way more people than, say, shuffleboard. I read the owners' manuals, wear protective gear and practice defensive driving. So far so good!

Security is ethereal. If I should be so lucky, I'll die at 99 years, lying on my back watching the hawk migration from a mountaintop. My plan to get there is to take reasonable safety precautions and hope for the best. Maybe that'll be enough. Maybe not.

Michael Abraham lives in Blacksburg and is a businessman and writer.