You hop into the pickup cab. Sixty seconds into the drive, and the BLADE OPERATOR is telling you about the upcoming meeting of DRAINAGE AUTHORITY.  

“You see, JUDICIAL DITCH number eight runs nearly perfectly along the border of Howard and Fillmore counties...”

Tuning out of the DRAINAGE talk, you notice that the BLADE OPERATOR’s pickup has two sets of rearview mirrors. Maybe the original ones from the ‘70s didn’t have a good enough field of view so they added another set...? You decide not to ask about it, knowing how long the loquacious BLADE OPERATOR might take to tell you the full story.

Another minute later, you’re outside the DAM BAR. Motorcycles, pickups, and nine bicycles covered in packs are parked out front.

“Go in and ask to use the phone. I’m going home, and I sure as heck won’t be back to save your butt for a third time!” says the BLADE OPERATOR as you hop out of the truck.

With that, the blade operator drives off, but after about twenty-five feet, the truck literally grinds to a halt, CLUNKS into reverse, and pulls back to where you still stand.

“Oh, and make sure you try the SNACK MIX!” adds the BLADE OPERATOR. Moments later, the BLADE OPERATOR’S single functioning taillight disappears into the fog.

Well, I guess you’d better go into the DAM BAR.