Life in the slow lane.

Approaching a rare controlled intersection (which is to say, a stop
sign off the congruence of two "major" highways that constitue the
flimsy rationale for the existence of the town) this morning, a
passerthrough witnessed a substantial group of youngish men gathered
around a flatbed trailer upon which rested a cheap looking upright
piano.....somewhere in LaFarge, or Wilton, or Ettrick, or.....

One of their number was standing in front of the instrument and
banging out some badly played and unfamiliar amateur rendition of
something eminently forgetable. The traveller, struck by the
incongruity (or perhaps it was the immediatley recognizable
perfection) of the scene came to a rare complete stop at the sign that
all locals know is just for tourists anyway. All eyes on the landward
side strayed to the road (there really wasn't all that much else to
look at anyway) while those in the vehicle serenely surveyed the
roadside scene.

"Rockin!" quoth the inhabitant of the latter.

Much laughter, came the reply from the crew.

Waves and smiles were exchanged.

giles
who, having been around the block a few times, notes that it could
have been worse.