Inspired by this, from the blog d’ellison, I am reminded of an earlier time, a time when I was in the beginning of my machinist’s apprenticeship.

I had my first almost-new car, a late 70’s Chevy Caprice, and I learned after I bought it that it had been ordered, but not delivered, as an Indiana Police Interceptor. A very nice, and very fast car. The very first car I ever owned, for instance, with Air Conditioning. Power Windows (that worked!)

Anyway, on my way home from work one warm summer’s night, I’m sitting in the left turn lane waiting for my light to go green, and digging, so to speak, for gold.

See, the Coke Plant, where I worked, had such a dusty atmosphere that you constantly grew large, crusty hard boogers. That’s what boogers are for, by the way, they trap particles of crap from entering your lungs. The amount of fine coal dust I breathed was one of many reasons I left the place, I didn’t want to end up with Miner’s lung like so many of my co-workers had.

Anyway, I’m sitting in my Chevy, and I have my left index finger up my nose to the second knuckle (I’ve often thought, there’s your proof of the existence of a creator, everyone’s finger fits their own nose perfectly)and I extract something that, frankly, doesn’t look like it could have come out of my head.

I sit admiring this, this glistening orb of goo, embedded with tiny sparkling flecks of coal dust and god knows what other substances, and think, “That came out of my HEAD!!” “hell, It’s almost as BIG as my head!” Actually, it wasn’t, but it WAS nearly the size of a golfball. While I stared at it, the light changed, not for me yet, but for oncoming turners. I reach under my left hand with my right, and push the button that rolls down the window.

I carefully lean my left arm out the window, and give a little flip, just as a cross-traffic left turner pulls alongside, and this sinusoidal egg of nastiness lands on the poor guys windshield, immediately in his line of sight. At that exact moment, the traffic stops, and the new owner of my viscous snotball sits directly next to me, facing the opposite direction. He turns and gives me a look that conveys his displeasure a the vile gift I have bestowed upon him, then turns on his windshield wipers, which has the effect of spreading the material in a thin layer completely across the arc described by the windshield wipers. At that moment, my light greens, and I pull away. Never did find out what happened to that guy, but I bet he was nauseous for a long time.