I felt I had been agreeably run over, and I was agreeably getting twisted up underneath whatever vehicle it was; it was heavy and moving fast and had a two-range transmission like a rock truck. Trash was raining off the truck and I did not care. Let it rain. Let there be trash. Intelligent, surviving animals make durable nests of trash. Trash is a precious commodity in our time. He who cannot look trash in the eye is lost. In a raiment of minor garbage walks the necessary hero today.