So I'm just riding onto this bridge this morning and a tractor & trailor comes grinding by and, while it was a bit behind me, kicked a thumb sized rock up and hit me in the hip. I look down in time to see the rock skittering in front of me. The driver actually saw it and gave a couple blasts on his airhorn. Either an apology or a triumphant "chalk up another one". I'm fine except for a bruise on the hip. A year ago in almost the same spot I and a partner got splashed by the leaky, dripping tallow truck that hawls away dead cows.
Home is where you find it. DeeGee stops for lattes and crab flautas. I encounter rocks and cow sh*t.