column 8 It's raining c.d's


We had parked the camper on the parking place beside the Seven Miles Bridge when we were woken up by a loud clatter. There were a lot of c.d.'s on Highway One. I quickly popped on my slippers and trousers and I was able to rescue most of the c.d.'s before trucks rode over them. It was bound to be a girl-friend who didn't agree with the musical taste of the driver or thieves who had jettisoned everything they didn't like in a stolen car.
There was lots of rap, with explicit lyrics, parental advice: Joe Cocker and some hip-hop. You began to form a picture of the owner.
A half an hour later Anita saw a couple of white lads, about twenty years old, searching all over Highway One. I asked if they were looking for c.d.'s
"Yes. We found a few but they are all damaged. I had picked up about thirty before they had been ridden over by trucks so I was able to save most of them. The question was, how had the c.d.'s landed on the road.
"We were parked beside you here in the parking place and we put the bag with all the c.d.'s in it on the roof of the car. When we rounded a bend in the road everything fell off the roof. I saw it happening in my rear-view mirror, but couldn't turn so it was fourteen miles before we could come back to look for them."