The other day I was driving along the I-5 and in the middle of the road was a shoe. A single shoe. One hopes it did not have a foot in it. The way the traffic is around here, I certainly wasn’t about to stop and find out. How did that lonely little shoe get there, and where is its mate? There’s nothing more frustrating than an untold story.
But it got me thinking about some of the other strange things I have found on the side of the road. One time I had to pull over and check my battery connection. I was in rural Florida, surrounded by miles and miles of nothing but potato fields, and at that very spot where I stopped I found a woman’s lacy black thong. Now that is probably an interesting story that will never be told.
And one very dry summer when it seemed as if the entire state of Florida were on fire and everyone was on high alert, I was driving down the interstate and there was this oily rag on the shoulder, in flames. I pulled over and stomped it out. I’ll always wonder if that was accidental or intentional.
Then there was the time that my boyfriend and I were driving down a highway one night in Central Florida and he hit something that we thought to our sheer horror was a body. We went back, and it turned out that it was an entire side of beef.
But perhaps the strangest story of all is the time a coworker found a plain brown bag on the side of the road. He looked inside, then he hopped into his truck, went back to the office and resigned, taking nothing with him except that bag. None of us ever saw him again. Whatever was in that bag must have been awfully good. Stuff like that never happens to me.
[Image credit: ransacker.co.uk]