One time I was driving and somebody threw a bottle of water out of their window and it bounced around like a pinball off dozens of cars without bursting. Eventually it got knocked off to the shoulder but a deer was running by and its antler bonked it back onto the road where it got shot out from under an 18-wheeler tire into an Oldmobile bumper, flying 40 feet into the air before coming back down onto a miniature trampoline in the back of a pickup truck driven by an ex farmer who had stolen it minutes before from some trampoline salesman. The bounce sent it spinning at an uncredible speed which allowed it to glance off of dozens of windshields, one after another in imperfect synchronicity before counter-turning on the hot asphalt like a whirling dervish. The very sight of its spin caused a full third of motorists to weep which rendered them legally blind; another third were already illegally blind (those drivers with pirate patches over both eyes) and so were coincidentally immune to the visual majesty and its incapacitating effect; with the last third rendered non compass mentis, which meant they knew they were driving in the wrong direction in relation to their destination but didn’t care, so strong was their desire to see the bouncing water bottle. It got to a point where people were betting on which car would finally pop the bottle and release all that crystal clear shaken up goodness, placing wagers at the toll booth before it and paying up at the next if they were wrong. And they were all wrong. Except for me. I guessed right. I said it was gonna be that red Catillac next to me. Something about the color of the driver’s ear canal and the fact that one of the hubcaps was missing made me say it would be them and it was. The bottle spun over the hood of my car, sunlight sparkling its rainbow arc, before it struck the pavement capside down and seemed to hover there for several minutes. Obviously it couldn’t have been that long, I was doing almost 80, but it felt like an eternity before old red plowed over it with his whitewalls and liquid gold sprayed the road. So even though I didn’t want that hour and a half to end, especially by seeing that lovely little bottle that never hurt anyone get squashed by 4000 pounds of American wood and grease in my side mirror, knowing that a big payday was waiting for me at the upcoming toll booth put a smile on my face. Some people are lucky like that I guess. I mean, of all the hundreds of cars that water bounced off of, only I guessed right. That is until the bastard at the booth told me to shut up and pay the toll and if I try to grab him again he’ll call the state troopers over. He probably kept the money for himself. Asshole.