This was unincorporated San Mateo County. SFO, the airport, had 20 jets a day taking off in a flight path directly over the one acre lot we were working. I could look up and read instructions on the underside of the wings. “Not a step”. One compartment was marked “Spare tires”. Loud low planes. The Bobcat, the John Deere and the viberator plate were all simultaneously drowned out by the jet engines.
Giant shadows ran up the hillside at us. If you looked up the plane wanted to kill you. It was screaming and blocking the sun. Locke shouted, “Man they’re big. No wonder the trade towers fell down.”
We were working together in another field five years ago when that happened. People still have horses, horses still chew up fences and we still fix them.
Locke should know that the Trade towers didn’t fall down…they were blown up with explosives. Oh, look at that–I’m a Democrat again!
Comment by e. march — September 14, 2006 @ 11:45 pm