Lost Gambles
Jul. 17th, 2006 10:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bjarvisThe drive to work this morning along I270 northbound wasn't particularly unpleasant. Traffic was only moderately dense in this reverse commute direction but even the southbound lanes looked light compared to their usual load. The topic of discussion on NPR this morning was, however, exceptionally uninteresting: I can't tell you what it was anymore as I tuned out so early & completely into the broadcast.
In my boredom, I started to notice bits of debris along roadside in the miles between home & work.
The first to be encountered was the now-two dimensional corpse of a possum. Somehow, he got into the roadway and it ended his life.
Further along, I saw an industrial broom alongside the median. It was undamaged as near as I could see: the light tan wooden handle was intact and the bright orange bristles seemed pristine.
A few miles later, an empty silver beer can rolled along the highway, blown alternately into the third or fourth lanes by passing vehicles yet somehow avoiding direct contact with a car or truck that would flatten or impair its ability to move.
Just before my exit in Urbana, the mangled remains of a small lawn chair were strewn over 50 feet along the left shoulder, clearly the victim of a high velocity impact with the pavement.
These minor bits of detritus aren't just garbage: they're lost bets. Someone surely didn't intend to shatter a lawn chair on the highway or lose a perfectly good broom during their drive. I'm certain the possum didn't plan on dying in the HOV lanes. Someone secured --or didn't secure-- their possessions, gambling that their lack of preparation or care wouldn't matter, that their items would still be in their vehicle when they arrived at their destination. It was a gamble, and they lost.
Perhaps they passingly calculated the effort of securing their cargo wasn't worth the value of the cargo itself. By lack of foresight or from selfishness, they excluded from their cost estimate the effort by others to clean up their discarded items. Bad gambles usually cost twice.
In my boredom, I started to notice bits of debris along roadside in the miles between home & work.
The first to be encountered was the now-two dimensional corpse of a possum. Somehow, he got into the roadway and it ended his life.
Further along, I saw an industrial broom alongside the median. It was undamaged as near as I could see: the light tan wooden handle was intact and the bright orange bristles seemed pristine.
A few miles later, an empty silver beer can rolled along the highway, blown alternately into the third or fourth lanes by passing vehicles yet somehow avoiding direct contact with a car or truck that would flatten or impair its ability to move.
Just before my exit in Urbana, the mangled remains of a small lawn chair were strewn over 50 feet along the left shoulder, clearly the victim of a high velocity impact with the pavement.
These minor bits of detritus aren't just garbage: they're lost bets. Someone surely didn't intend to shatter a lawn chair on the highway or lose a perfectly good broom during their drive. I'm certain the possum didn't plan on dying in the HOV lanes. Someone secured --or didn't secure-- their possessions, gambling that their lack of preparation or care wouldn't matter, that their items would still be in their vehicle when they arrived at their destination. It was a gamble, and they lost.
Perhaps they passingly calculated the effort of securing their cargo wasn't worth the value of the cargo itself. By lack of foresight or from selfishness, they excluded from their cost estimate the effort by others to clean up their discarded items. Bad gambles usually cost twice.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 03:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 04:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 03:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 03:48 pm (UTC)I was at an English Country Dance last week, and Mr Chatty Cathy was my partner for one dance. He never shut up through the walk through (of a fairly complicated dance) and then kept making a balls up of the dance. As a certified dance snob, I wanted to choke him to death. But since he's full of shit, his sphincters would have relaxed,and made a mess of the dance floor. So I let him live. Grudgingly.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 08:49 pm (UTC)I don't mind beginners.
But people who never catch on to what the calls are, no matter how many times they try to dance annoy me.
I said I was a dance snob.
no subject
Date: 2006-07-17 04:08 pm (UTC)Uh, yeah, sure... let's go with that.