Went to Kingston to play squash against my uncle today. I got demolished; I'd like to blame my safety goggles that kept fogging up (I normally play without them, and my uncle was non-plussed when I told him this), but the truth is he made me run the court like crazy. It's humbling to be owned by a guy in his fifties, with a bad foot, no less. I managed more points when we played with the beginner's ball (9-15). The low bouncing regulation ball was hard to retrieve and I wasn't used to it.
On the drive back from Kingston, as my step-dad took the Kennedy offramp, the Ford Tempo died. It's fortunate that it died where it did and not in the middle of the highway. We sat for a couple of minutes, hazards blinking as he tried the ignition, but the engine wouldn't turn over. In no time at all a silver tow-truck appeared, manned by a couple of guys dressed like twins (both had shaved heads and grey pullovers). Their quick arrival, the vulture like appearance of their shaved heads, and their efficiency at hitching the Tempo's lifeless chassis to the tow truck evoked thoughts of Mad Max and scavengers.
Riding in their truck cab was interesting. Four different police channels were blaring simultaneously, and the shorter twin riding shotgun got very excited when a pursuit was announced on the scanner. Both twins grabbed CB transmitters and started barking details of the pursuit to their dispatcher. All this activity made the truck ride seem frenetic and exciting (they later explained that a police pursuit often ends in one of two ways: either the speeder crashes or they're rammed off the road, which is where tow trucks enter the picture). I've never given tow-truck drivers a second thought, so the brief exposure to their culture was new and colourful for me. In a funny way, they're part of an automotive ecosystem with cops playing the role of predators, speeders acting as prey, and tow truck drivers swooping in to complete the picture as scavengers.
I've now decided that I'm going to quit my job and become a tow truck driver. But first things first: I'm still determined to fulfill my vow to become a champion stacker, the world's best speed drinker, and master falconer. A man's gotta have priorities...
3 comments:
I think you should stop daydreaming about being a stacking, falconing maniac, and focus on not getting your ass handed to you by a fifty year old. How 'bout that one boss?
What role do the police take when there's an accident? What about the paramedics, who do they represent in this little ecosystem? Angels? Do they swoop in and rescue the fleshy souls of the cars and trucks? C'mon man, fill in the gaps!
GEEEORGE! Hey man, go here> www.takemetochinatown.blogspot.com
Guy, there are no angels in ecosystems. Everybody knows that! Go peddle your nonsense somewhere else. This blog is for serious discussion. No Santa addicts allowed! Strictly verboten!
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