Awed by the lights and sirens
Standing beside the gas pump (a vulnerable location, both physically and economically), aware of the freezing rain falling just beyond the canopy. Suddenly, sirens and a full light show, as a police car followed by a fire truck race past, ignoring the red light at the corner. Gets the adrenaline going, I have to tell you. What if?
Scenarios from a hundred cheap action movies. Will there be a crash of epic proportions? Gunfire. Japanese monsters? Probably I’m watching nothing more important than the race to extinguish some burning toast, but you just never know! My life, happily, doesn’t seem to involve either the forces of law and order or the guys with the big red truck (yellow, in certain areas). Nor am I interested in closer contact. I would happily live a century without their intervention on my behalf. Glad that they’re close by, that’s it.
In the news, a possible drawing back from the great Canadian airplane purchase. Turns out that the F-35 deal might not be all that done, although I’d prefer that the Minister who likes to peek have the chance to address the issue. He spoke so eloquently during the last electoral campaign, when he assured the country that only a fool would pass up the chance to spend a fortune on planes with… OK, planes without… motors. Now we’re back to the prevarication prance. Will we or won’t we?
Imagine if Canada did like a famous Irish airline and named their planes after saints. St. Stephen has a certain ring to it. As a taxpayer (and a top of the pile taxpayer, compared to those living in other provinces), I don’t need to see one to believe. A St. Stephen, I mean.
