Oddest roadkill in ages

As a bicyclist, I’m used to all manner of death, decay and discards on the shoulders of our roads. I can tell at 100 feet how far away from that possum corpse I should swing in order to avoid the hot blast o’ death smell. I’m pretty good at picking through the unbelievable amount of broken glass that lines every road, everywhere, though it certainly seems like people are working extra hard at making sure there’s glass out there, ’cause car crashes and beer bottles just can’t explain that much broken glass. And I’m used to dodging all kinds of road flares, lost auto parts, plastic crap, fast food detritus, random bits of hardware and even, once, a box of tacks, just like in a cartoon.

But there are also things that have mostly disappeared from the side of the road — like unspooled cassette tapes. Once ubiquitous, now rarely seen due to the demise of the cassette (and not nearly soon enough, as far as I was concerned. Hated that medium). But today I veered out of the way for something I hadn’t had to veer out of the way for in twenty years — a broken LP in the road. Vinyl. Long player. A record. (Is this thing on? Old folks, explain to the young folks!) Now, how odd is that?

Other things out there in profusion, besides possums? Socks, lots of socks. Do-rags and cast-off t-shirts. Single shoes and sneakers. The single shoe always perplexed me until one day I saw an SUV merrily bombing down the highway with a single boot still resting on the back bumper, no doubt waiting to be tossed off like its mate must have already been.

Things I never see? Books. Just never. I’ve seen entire computers lying by the side of the road. I’ve seen cast-off toy dinosaurs and Powerpuff girls (and brought them home). I’ve seen cellphones and their parts. I’ve seen whippette canisters and hypodermic needles. I’ve never seen a book lying by the side of the road.