Residents of my neighborhood are often startled to see an old man strutting around the streets of HaHa Heights, clad in a hoodie and sweats and Rockports and listening to an iPod that might send him from Weezer to Bing Crosby to The Ronettes to Sammy Davis, Jr. to Tompall and the Glaser Brothers.
I am that man, and I thank you for not running me over with your automobile.
When I'm on the main road, I keep my eyes on the traffic coming in both directions, and then on the side streets, I tend to look down at what's on the pavement. It's awful, what people throw out of their cars as they career along. Empty bottles and cans. One shoe. McWrappers. Pens (apparently empty). Blue plastic grocery bags. Asian carryout doorknob hanging menus. Nails and screws (I stoop to get these). Deflated non-bouncy balls. And a half-empty roll of duct tape.
With little else on my mind but what song will pop up next in my iEars, I ponder the provenance of this roadside trash. There is no excuse for tossing out your empty bottle of Miller Golden Draft or Sutter Home, or anything else for that matter, but I keep seeing that half roll of "duck" tape in the same spot day after day, and I keep thinking someone was rolling along in someone's car, taping up some broken thing, and then just tossed out what remained on the roll rather than have it rolling around in the car.
Because who wants a messy car, when you can just as easily have a messy street?