A Memorable Occasion

It was Trash-collection Day. I remember the chaos and high-decibel cacophony of dump trucks rumbling into previous neighborhoods, intent on disturbing the pre-dawn peace--each with two or three sweaty drones clinging to the back; who periodically dismounted and flung metal cans and contents about with abandon, then raced after the receding behemoth--only to repeat the teeth-rattling, mind-numbing ritual until all the refuse had been collected, or at least redistributed. Waste disposal was an iffy and noisome proposition. Not so at my new abode! A vehicle resembling an armored personnel carrier (or an orange Stegosaurus on wheels) stopped at the end of my driveway, sans hangers-on--this was a one-man show! As I watched slack-jawed, two metal arms emerged, embraced my plastic trash container, hoisted it skyward, upended it, and delivered its bagged contents into the beast's cavernous maw, then reset the emptied receptacle in its precise curbside footprint. In this manner, 110 homes were serviced by a single individual (who never even got his hands dirty!) in about a half hour. An impressive performance. And more entry-level blue-collar jobs eliminated.