A noise distracted my silent reverie of gazing at the various boats and Ski-doos which danced upon the waters. A motor vehicle approached on Cedar from east, headed my way. Unexpectedly a second noise alerted me of a slight yet speeding pickup truck travelling northward on Center Street. Each displayed all the character of hurried and determined captains directing their respective horseless carriages. Fear crept into my mind. "Gracious!" methought, "Is this calamity which approaches?"
A glance down Cedar showed no evidence that yon vehicle intended to yield; a return stare southward on Center brought similar distress. Ought I prepare my camera phone to capture the incident with a photo sure to attract the attention of the local news hounds? Or would my time be better served with a 'duck and cover' maneuver behind the safety of the stone fence, lest my own body be struck down via airborne debris?
Thankfully, or so I rightly admonished myself as the thought of spectacular havoc having invaded my head, the small truck patrolling Center elected to obey the red, octagonal traffic sign declaring that vehicles from his vantage come to a full stop before proceeding hence. The discretion of the pilot of the pickup allowed the motorcar on Cedar Street to cruise forth unimpeded and safely, a fine result indeed for all involved.
Taking my blue paisley handkerchief from my pocket, I wiped my brow in relief. Though I would find no photographic market for a pile of twisted wreckage upon the bi-ways of small town Michigan, I was content that distaster was averted. I happily returned to the roar of motorboats, sublime in my safety.
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