I would’t go so far as too say that small towns have the absolute weirdest shit go on, but they sure are far more noticeable when they happen. I was walking my dog, fairly early in the morning, couldn’t have been later than 9:00, when this giant truck with Australian license plates blazed through my neighborhood.
Normally something like this would have put me on fury road (Tom Hardy as Mad Max? Color me intrigued) but I was far too bewildered by what the truck contained: it was stacked and tied five-feet-high with Christmas trees. It was the middle of August. I stood frozen, trying my best to analyze the world around me and make sure there hadn’t been some glitch in the matrix. After about a minute of eternity, I made the attempt to track the truck, hoping to see it and discover it was on of “Pimp My Ride”‘s last cars before the show ran out of funding – but the Christmas tree truck from Sydney and the man behind the wheel were nowhere to be found.
I went home and tried to put the whole incident behind me. The only problem was my curiosity. It got the better of me, much like every teen romance novel, I needed to investigate further. After a few empty searches within the New York area, I began spreading my wings across the sea and tapped into the great outback for any sign of a Christmas tree moving truck. I managed to find one hopeful prospect – Christmas trees Sydney, a tree delivering business where they prune and grow their own trees. The trucks looked identical, but it made no sense as the Christmas trees were made and cultivated in Sydney. Everyone else claims to have not seen anything.
It’s just another example of something I can’t wrap my head around in this place. Another day in the life of the 4400, I suppose.