So there I was, 50km into a 75km loop, cruising south on Bayview (wide, fast, multi-lane
suburban road).
Peering through my scratched "Fit overs" with bleary eyes, I thought "hmmm .... there's a police
cruiser stopped in the curb lane."
Signalled my lane change, moved left to pass.
The traffic light turned yellow. I stopped (I do that even
when there isn't a police cruiser parked at the intersection).
The officer started his engine, nudged the car forward a few feet, rolled down the window.
(anticipation. fear. dread.)
"Watch out for the nails." He said. "Nails?" I replied. "They're all over the road. Better use
the sidewalk." he said.
So I did. (very seldom resort to the sidewalk, but he had a gun).
Yup. Nails all over the road. Looked like about 4 per square inch. Think they were galvanized
roofing nails. I hypothesize that a box of them fell off a truck and "exploded," carpet bombing
the area. Or perhaps a road salter loaded with roofing nails went through - that's what it
looked like, for about 30 feet.
If I'd hit those at 40 kph, I'd probably be picking nails out of my hands and knees and
...... for days.
If I'd hit them going slowly, I could have written a nastygram:
"Dear Mr. Vredstein,
I'd like to return these so-called 'puncture resistant' tires. They're OBVIOUSLY
defective ......"
Naturally, I cowered under the bed for the rest of the week. A stroke of good luck like that HAS
to be balanced by a fiasco of similar mass, to maintain the natural order of the universe.