I dropped Max (the young ruffian that my dad hired to help him out this summer) off in Charlemont after work yesterday because it was on the way to Johanna's retirement party. As I crossed the Deerfield river and turned west onto Route 2 I noticed his fly was hanging on to my window, on the outside. Its wings were perfectly still as I approached fifty miles an hour and then, just like that, it lost its grip and went flying up the windshield and over the van (I hope).
No comments:
Post a Comment