I was driving down the road yesterday morning heading to market- trying to convince my windshield wipers that they could get that ice off the windshield and the heater was going full speed to back up that effort and belief. And, all was going well and the wipers were going hammer and tong at it (making no progress on the ice of course).
Suddenly, the two wipers got cross wise and got to fighting with each other while I am doing 55mph. The one of the passenger side suddenly up and dropped dead across the hood of my truck.
As I looked out there - at the prostrate carcass of the once thriving wiper - I was reminded of the days in Wyoming, when, during hunting season - the great white hunters would come into town with the carcass of the Elk, moose, or deer strapped across the hood of the truck for all to see - driving slow to be sure no one missed the big kill.
So, at 6am this morning, I drove real real slow into Pass Christian on the beach. I did not want anyone to miss the the trophy kill on the hood. I now know how those big white hunters felt struttin their prize across the hood of the truck driving down Main Street.