Rendezvous with Debris
Perhaps because of the near-Arctic cold, Monday's drive to work was marked by very bad driving and several unusual sights: a bank of ice fog on the Cedar Avenue bridge over the Minnesota River, a big hydraulic excavator sitting in the smack middle of a frozen cornfield, dozens of snowmobile tracks interlaced over a snowy hillside. As I drove down a long, flat straightaway on Minnesota Highway 23 outside Northfield, I watched a garbage truck slow, stop, and then reverse into a farmhouse driveway. As I sped past, I saw, further down the road, a pickup roar down a longer driveway, sending up a towering roostertail of snow and ice. I started considering evasive action in case it sped right out into my path, but the truck screeched to a halt just as it reached the highway. Leaving his door open, the driver leapt out, ran to the bed, one-armed his man-sized garbage bin up into the air, and rushed the bin into place on the shoulder of the road - just as his garbage truck got back on the road in my rear-view mirror. You know you live in the country when you need a truck to bring your garbage to the curb.
1 Comments:
"You know you live in the country when you need a truck to bring your garbage to the curb."
-- This made me chuckle. One of my "chores" growing up was to take out the trash... to two blackened old 50-gallon herbicide barrels whereby I would then proceed to "burn the garbage." This included exploding aerosol cans, dead batteries, bags of dirty kitty litter, and all other forms of household trash.
You know you're *really* in the country when no one will come to take your trash from you and there's no recycling service within a 90 mile radius. ;)
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