On my way to work today, I get behind a sander and a plow. Pretty much in that order. The sander went first, and then the plow immediately followed it. Is it me, or does that sort of defeat the purpose? The plow pretty much ripped up the snow the sander had just laid down on, thus negating a major portion of the effect of the sander.
It's nice to see your tax dollars at work like that.
The plow was one of those city, industrial plows, not those cheesy, Tonka-toy freelancers who don't want to scar their precious blades; which I'm getting used to around here. A plowed street really means it isn't as high as the sidewalk (not that I have sidewalks, mind you). When it snows in my town, you can pretty much forget about seeing pavement until it melts.
But this guy was nuts, he was—I kid you not—ripping the snow right up to the curb, exposing the sidewall as he went with a fiery display of sparks. In several places, the embers were still glowing as I passed by. He sent a torrent of snow over the curb and onto people's lawns, cars and bushes. I watched one guy, shoveling out his drive way, leap back as he saw it coming.
Presicion plowing in a 10-ton truck.
Awesome.
posted by Evil Wayne @ 1:32 PM
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