Reflections on the Surface

July 31, 2007

The Tortoise and the Hare

Surrey, England.

The man in the silver-gray BMW diesel 320CD grimaced behind me, as I pulled away from the lights at an ordinary speed.
Aged about 55, he was clearly in a hurry,as he and his car clung to my tailgate like a limpet for a while.

I found a safe spot to let him pass, and he did so, accelerating furiously, leaving a large puff of diesel smoke behind him like a fart.

Five minutes later I caught up with him, stalled in a queue of traffic. You should have seen his face.

I looked at his clenched jaw and thought about his health, and about the state of his arteries, probably riddled with clot. And about the fact that diesel-fuel microparticulates are, everywhere, clogging up our hearts and lungs and minds like poison.

The man pulled away from the lights with his foot to the floor and yet another cloud of diesel added to the smog.

 

 

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