So it's a Tuesday morning around seven o'clock on a fine day in June. A neighbor lady and I hit the street headed for work about the same time. She's a social worker for the Episcopal Church and drives an eight-year-old Ford Just-Get-Me-There-and-Back-Please-God sedan. And I drive a 1952 GMC Go-Ahead-and-Hit-Me panel truck.At the same time, the owner of the Range Rover rushes up.... Uh-oh - he has left his coffee cup and briefcase on the roof of the Range Rover, and there they remain as he rolls away. To the rescue comes the nice lady social worker.... She chases after him, urgently honking her horn, which he ignores because he is already on his cellular phone talking to London.... I, in the meantime, driving close behind as a kind of third float in this little parade, likewise try to get his attention. Mine is an "aaaoooogaah" horn salvaged out of an old Model A. The combination of "HONK, HONK, HONK" and "AAAOOOOGAAH, AAAOOOOGAAH, AAAOOOOGAAH" is too much. He jams on his brakes, flings open the door of the veldtmobile, and tries to get out - without first unlatching his seat belt. At the same moment, his morning cup of coffee slides off the roof, bounces across the hood, and smashes into the street. Followed by his brassbound briefcase, which crashes onto the hood, scrapes across the paint with a fingernails-on-blackboard screech, and flops into the street on top of the broken coffee cup. The dear lady, mission accomplished, coasts slowly around the scene of the accident, smiles, waves, sings out "Have a nice day!" to her neighbor dangling from the car in the clutches of his seat belt. And no, she did not, as you might anticipate, run over his briefcase. No, she did not. I did.....

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